Raven's Souls
by RavenSouls
Summary: Raven, a brand new undead, explores the mysteries that Lordran has to offer, stumbling across a legacy that may preserve the age of fire... or bring it to an abrupt end. She knows from the start that she can't do it alone - the knight who rescued her from her cell, a bumbling onion knight, and a jolly co-operator join her on her journey, among other friends she meets along the way.
1. Chapter 1: Asylum Abdication

AN: I won't pretend to understand all the lore of Dark Souls, so please forgive me if there are errors in any of this. Please don't just call me an idiot, tell me what I did wrong, and how I can fix it. I'm also altering lots of dialogue to be more organic and modern, as well as allowing Raven, the chosen undead in my take on the story, more voice than the chosen undead has in the base game.

Chapter One: Asylum Abdication

Raven sat in the corner of her cell, bored. Nothing interesting had happened recently, unless you counted the rat that had wandered through the grated door an indeterminate amount of time ago. Yup. That's what her life had been reduced to. The master key in her pocket, one of the tools of her trade, was useless against the advanced lock of her cell door.

"Why can't I just go hollow and get it over with?" she asked herself, thinking aloud. Her body was already there, rotting away beneath the black leather of her thief's getup. But no matter how long she sat there, with no purpose, her mind just wouldn't depart her.

"Why, that would ruin the fun of this escape!" Raven was startled that someone had actually answered, not having a conversation partner in ages. She looked around, and finally she realized the sound had come from above. She peered through the skylight in the top of her cell, and saw an Astoran Knight peering through. He tossed a corpse through the hole, which dropped to the ground heavily. A key glittered on it's belt.

"I'll see you on the outside, friend," the strange, kind knight said, standing up and turning away. Raven stood up, grabbing the key hungrily, and rushed to her cell door, newfound hope in hand. She tried the corpse's key on the lock, and, sure enough, it turned smoothly. The cell door which for so long had been the bane of existence creaked loudly as it swung open. Raven couldn't help but grin wildly, as she took her first step towards freedom.

She stepped into a hallway, and immediately broke into a run, ignoring the hollows that were staring at the wall in despair along the way. She noted the grating on the other side, giving an ominous view of a chaos demon, but kept running. That demon was a problem for when she got her hands on a weapon besides the hilt of a straight sword, with barely an inch of blade remaining, which currently rested in her satchel. Come to think of it, it was better than nothing. She pulled it out as she reached a circular room with a ladder leading upwards. She clambered up quickly, before exiting the room and coming into a courtyard. It's most prominent features were a coiled sword stuck point-down into a pile of ash, and a large set of double doors.

Raven touched the hilt of the coiled sword, and the bonfire that it marked magically flared to life. She rested quickly, giving the curse that afflicted her a marker to return her to, should she be killed. As she stood up, she raised a hand to the darksign branded into the side of her neck, before she realized what she was doing with horror and immediately removed her hand.

"Best not to think about that thing," she muttered, moving towards the large set of double doors. She heaved forwards, and the doors swung open. She stepped forwards, and the room immediately shook as a large chaos demon crashed down from the ceiling.

"Well, shit. How am I supposed to beat this thing?" The demon growled, leaping forwards and swinging it's massive great hammer over its head, smashing down towards her. Raven took the opportunity to dive forwards, going right under the demon, and came up in a roll. She slashed at the demon's posterior with the inch of jagged blade that her current weapon boasted. It made a small incision, but the demon didn't even notice. It spun around, sliding the club along the ground and flinging up debris. Raven hopped over the debris that preceded the massive club, and, praying to every god she knew of for luck, rolled into the demon's swing. The demon ran out of momentum as it spun, and lifted it's great hammer up as Raven rolled towards it, causing it to pass mere inches above her head. She spun around as she rolled, swinging again. Again, a small cut, but absolutely no reaction. Raven noticed that the lacerations she had caused hadn't even drawn blood. She looked around the room for a better weapon, and her eyes settled on a small, bronze portcullis in a corner of the room. Screw fighting this thing, Raven decided in that instant. She sprinted for the open gate, diving through it just as the demon jumped again. Behind her, it's hammer smashed down, crushing the gate and the stone around it, sealing off the path she had just taken. She grinned at her amazing luck.

Moving on, Raven turned to assess the area she had just come into. It was a decently sized room, partially flooded, with a doorway in one corner, and a bonfire close by. Raven lit it, and once again sat down for a short rest. When she got up, she decided to press onwards. As she went through the doorway that was the room's second notable feature, she heard the twang of a bowstring, and immediately dropped to the ground. She felt the wind of an arrow sailing over her head. She got up, and saw a long hallway, with a hollowed archer at the far end. There was a doorway halfway up, with a corpse slumped in it, clutching a target shield. Raven sprinted towards it, grabbed the shield, slung it over her left arm, blocking another arrow that came sailing towards her. She sprinted at the hollow archer, who turned and ran up an adjoining hallway to the left. She saw another corpse, impaled through the chest with what appeared to be a bandit's knife, laying under where the archer had been standing. She snatched up the knife, tossing the broken straight sword hilt aside, and turned to chase after the archer, who shot another arrow at her.

She promptly ducked again, and the arrow sailed over her head and clattered against the wall behind her. She stood up, and continued to charge the archer, who desperately fumbled to draw another arrow from his quiver as Raven approached. To his credit, he did manage to get the arrow nocked before she reached him. Unfortunately for him, it didn't much matter. Raven kicked off the wall beside him, depositing her immediately behind the archer. She aimed her strike carefully but quickly, and deftly stabbed him in the back. The archer fell to the ground, dead, and Raven inhaled with a rush of euphoria as she absorbed his souls. She shook her head to clear the rush. Enough of that. It was time to move on. Raven turned around, walking the rest of the way down the hallway, where she was met by a gateway of shimmering white fog, a mysterious piece of magic that she wasn't sure she'd ever understand. Regardless, she stepped through the shimmering light, which faded behind her.

Raven found herself on a balcony overlooking the courtyard which she had recently occupied, and chuckled. She hadn't realized she'd circled around in such a manner, although she had known she was going in a general upwards direction, from the slopes of the hallways. She turned left, before realizing that that direction was a dead end, and turned back in the other direction. She found two sets of stairs; one leading down towards the courtyard, and one that led up further yet. She didn't need to go back to face the demon without exploring a little more, so she decided to go up, and was greeted with a rumbling sound. From the top of the stairs, a large boulder was rolling down towards her. Raven immediately jumped sideways, out of the boulder's path, and landed on the stairs leading down. She turned around to see that the boulder had crashed through the wall behind her, revealing a small room. She peered in curiously, and noticed the knight who had rescued her earlier, laying on a pile of rubble, illuminated by a single shaft of light which was, presumably, his own entrance to the room.

"Oh, you. You're no hollow, eh? I'm done for, I'm afraid," the Astoran Knight said weakly. His resigned tone almost made Raven choke; she had seen far too much death, even before she was undead herself, to be able to tolerate this easily. Everyone had told her that it got easier. It didn't. In fact, it seemed that each death she experienced wore away at the little tolerance she had for the matter, until now it was completely gone. She felt a tear run down her cheek, and she shook her head desperately.

"I'm not leaving you here to die," she said, crouching down beside him, and he chuckled in a despondent manner.

"There's nothing to be done. I'll die soon, and then go hollow," the knight responded, his head leaning back. Matching rivers of tears were readily flowing down Raven's cheeks, although she had no clue why. She shouldn't be crying over the death of this man. They barely knew each other. And yet, something about his prone, weak form compared to his upbeat attitude previously yanked at her heart. She knew that this was a death that her own sanity would not survive.

"You and I... we're both undead. Hear me out, will you?" The knight seemed resigned to his fate.

"No. Whatever you're going to ask me to do, you can do it yourself. You are NOT dying here," Raven told him, somewhat angry now. Raven looked around, begging the gods to send a way to save him. Funny. It was the first time she had asked the gods for anything, and it wasn't even for herself. She had always spent every last minute looking out for herself, as a thief living on the streets of various cities in various lands, as she got caught in, and escaped from, each one in turn. It had seemed that she had finally met her match in prisons when the curse of the undead landed on her, and she was carted off to the undead asylum. And now, here she was, actually looking out for someone else, someone that she barely knew.

She was snapped out of her moment of reflection as her eyes settled on something that meant a miracle. An estus flask, which had rolled away from the knight as he fell through the ceiling, lying in the corner. There was enough there to heal... anything, really. You could regrow a lost limb with that much left. She grabbed it, flipped up the knight's faceplate, and put the flask to his lips. He tried to mumble something, but it was lost in the estus.

"Drink," Raven told him, and he did. As he emptied the flask, a warm glow rose from his body, and then faded. The flask was empty.

"Thanks," the knight said, his voice already closer to the upbeat sound she had heard when he had dropped her the key than his exhausted, resigned tone.

"I'm Oscar, by the way. Who, exactly, are you?" The knight seemed genuinely curious.

"Not that I'm complaining, but... you shouldn't have let me free if you didn't know me. Name's Raven. I have a long and complicated life history, starting in Carim and ending in... well, hell. It's still unfolding. How am I to know where it ends?" The knight chuckled, and stretched a hand upwards. Raven accepted it, helping him to his feet.

"That estus works wonders, but I'd like to stop by a bonfire before facing that demon again, if it's all right with you," Oscar said, following Raven out of the room. Raven nodded, and headed down the stairs, rather than up. They came to a gate, which Raven pushed open, and they walked into the courtyard, sitting down at the bonfire. Oscar refilled his estus flask, and the magic of bonfires radiated over both of them, healing and rejuvenating them. Both rose shortly after. Raven walked up to the large doors, behind which the demon was undoubtedly still lying in wait.

"Shall we?" she asked, and Oscar nodded, joining her at the doors. She shoved on them with more than enough force to get them open, based on what she remembered of her last attempt. The doors held fast. Oscar joined in, pushing on one door while she pushed on the other. Still nothing.

"Damn things are stuck fast," Oscar said finally, panting, "We'll have to find another way into that room." Not deeming it necessary to speak where a nod would suffice, Raven bobbed her head, and they headed back to the gate that they had come from. They climbed one staircase, and then the other, and were met with a hollow at the top. Oscar decapitated it with a single swing of his sword, then pulled a key from one of the pouches on his belt, unlocking a gate at right behind the dead hollow. Raven felt a sudden rush as the hollow's souls entered her body, and she swayed for a moment, before steadying herself, shaking her head to clear the feeling.

"First time absorbing souls?" Oscar asked, seeing her brief disorientation.

"I've only been undead for about a month," Raven answered, "and most of the time I was in that damned cell. Thanks again, by the way." Oscar chuckled, then lead the way into the next room. Well, it wasn't exactly a room, so much as a landing. The roof had long since collapsed, or been torn away, by some force or another. Raven caught up to Oscar, and they walked side by side around the corner, where they came face to face with two hollows. One jumped at Raven, who parried expertly, delivering a deft thrust of her dagger into it's unarmored chest, slipping right between the ribs and skewering it's heart. Oscar simply slashed upwards, cutting the second hollow in half vertically. Raven heard the distinctive twang of a bowstring being released, and dropped to the ground, anticipating an arrow. Oscar wasn't so quick, and the arrow was aimed at him. It hit squarely in his armored chest, causing him to stumble in surprise. Raven jumped up from the ground, throwing her dagger at the archer and killing him, before turning to Oscar, who shrugged sheepishly before pulling the arrow out of his chest, revealing that it hadn't made it through his armor. Raven grinned.

"We've circled around to the back of that room, I think," Oscar started, "which means that that," he pointed to a wall of shimmering white light, facing back towards the way they had come from, "leads directly into that room, from above. Let's check where that other door," Oscar pointed to a door behind the archer, at the other end of their current 'room', "goes." Raven walked towards it, retrieving her knife from the archer's corpse as she went. Oscar raised his shield, and went through the door first, to draw enemy fire. None came, and Raven followed.

There was a single hollow soldier, wielding a longsword and far better armored than the ones that they had faced to this point, at the far end of the room. Raven charged him, and slashed, causing a narrow score in his flesh where her dagger barely penetrated his armor. He raised a hand, holding an estus flask, to his mouth, but Raven cut it off before he could heal successfully. The estus flask clattered to the ground. Raven stabbed the soldier right through the eye, killing him. She heard metal clanging, and briefly wondered where the blacksmith was before she realized that it was Oscar, with his steel-clad hands, clapping.

"Well done, indeed. And you even managed to nab his flask, to boot!" Oscar said, gesturing to the half-full estus flask on the ground. Raven picked it up, slipping it into one of her satchels. There was a gate behind the soldier, which she tried. It was locked, and the master key didn't work on that one, either.

"Afraid I don't have the key for that one. Leaves just the demon, doesn't it?" Oscar said, somehow managing to sound cheery about the impending battle. Raven jogged out of the room, Oscar right behind her. She stopped in front of the wall of shimmering, white fog.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Oscar asked in mock annoyance. Raven stepped through, to find herself on a narrow ledge with the demon looking up at her.

_Well, _Raven thought, _there's only one thing for_ it. She jumped off the ledge and towards the demon, ramming her knife through it's eye. It howled in pain, and shook her off, sending her flying across the room. By some miracle, she was actually able to hold onto the knife as she rolled to her feet, pain shooting up her back from her landing. The demon turned towards her menacingly, raising it's club. At that exact moment, Oscar leapt through the fog, shouting, "For Astora!" before bringing his sword slamming down into the demon's head, which split clean down the middle. The demon disintegrated into dust, which formed into a key and a black sprite. Raven felt a massive rush as she absorbed a portion of it's souls. The rest went to Oscar. Oscar picked up the key, and tossed the black blob to her.

"What's this?" Raven asked, looking at the sprite.

"I forget that you're new to being undead. That's a humanity. Crush it," Oscar explained. Raven looked at him, confused, but complied. Immediately she felt a massive rush, easily ten times the size of the influx of souls that she had just experienced. She actually felt it, somehow, inside of her.

"You feel that? That piece, inside you now? You can give that to a bonfire, and it will, for the most part, restore what you looked like before the curse of the undead afflicted you. Only works in Lordran, though. Something about the magic there." As he talked, Oscar inserted the key into a set of big doors which were separate from the ones that they had previously attempted to enter through. They swung open, and just like that, they were free to explore the whopping hundred yards between that set of doors and a sheer cliff. There wasn't much width to it, either.

"That wasn't what I expected to be outside," Oscar commented, "but let's at least go and admire the view. We've earned that much, don't you think?"

"I think we have," Raven replied, following him to the ledge. It really was a beautiful view. Suddenly, she heard a screech in the distance.

"What was that?" Oscar demanded, looking around in confusion. Suddenly, a crow swooped out of nowhere, bearing both of them up in it's claws.


	2. Chapter 2: The Father of Giants

AN: Sorry, if anyone was paying attention, for the MAJOR edit. I decided I wanted to change the weapon that Raven was going to use throughout the series, and I realized that it was probably an opportunity to extend the chapter a little. If I made you re-read some, I apologize. I hope you can understand that it's worth it for the sake of a better story down the road.

Chapter Two: Asylum Abdication

Raven and Oscar were pressed awkwardly together between the massive crow's claws.

"You think maybe we could have had a crow apiece?" Oscar asked, somewhat rhetorically. Raven watched the terrain go by below them, and, pressed so close to Oscar as she was, suddenly felt the urge to kiss him. She decided against it for a combination of two reasons: she was a decaying zombie, not having had the opportunity to restore her human form yet, and he was still wearing his helmet. Her once- wavy blue hair, now reduced to clumps and wisps as her body rotted, blew around in the wind, batting Oscar in the face constantly.

"Any way you could maybe restrain your hair? It's getting annoying," Oscar complained. Suddenly, Raven's stomach lurched as the crow began to descend. She craned her neck to look around Oscar, towards the ground, and saw a small, decaying shrine with a bonfire in the center and a few small, nearly dead trees scattered around it. There was a man in chain mail armor sitting a ways away from the fire. The crow dropped them both brutally on the ground in front of the fire, and they landed in a tangle on the ground. Raven hastily extricated herself from the tangle of limbs, trying far too late to avert an awkward situation.

"Well, we're here," Oscar commented, as Raven helped him up

"Well, well. This is certainly new. I've never seen _two_ arrivals at once," the man in chain mail said in a dreary, resigned voice. Raven hated that tone. It was the tone of someone who had given up. Someone crestfallen.

"I'll figure out what that's about. Take a rest at the bonfire, get your human form back, and spend some of those souls," Oscar told her. Raven looked at him quizzically in response.

"Last thing I have to explain, I promise. Souls you absorb from the deaths of others can be used to reinforce your being. Offer them to a bonfire, and in exchange something about you is strengthened, whether it's your vitality, your strength, your endurance, or a number of other things. You can choose what to enforce with souls," Oscar explained, before walking over to the crestfallen warrior. Raven sat down at the bonfire, filling her own estus flask. She offered the humanity she had absorbed earlier to the fire, and immediately felt her body restore to what it had been before the curse had settled on her. She felt amazing. Her blue hair, previously some wisps and clumps, filled out into the rich waves she remembered. She offered the souls she had absorbed next, choosing to commit them to her physical strength so she could wield something larger than her knife. She stood up, looking over to Oscar and the crestfallen warrior, who were arguing heatedly. Oscar seemed to be getting frustrated with the warrior's downtrodden attitude. He stormed off, moving back towards Raven, and stopped dead, seeing her in human form.

"Wow," he said, quite dumbfounded and at a loss for words. He stammered a few times, but seemed to be unable to come up with anything else to say.

"What's the news on Mr. Crestfallen?" Raven asked, trying to divert the conversation. It seemed to snap Oscar out of his stupor.

"Damned coward won't come with us, and he talks in circles, besides. It took a while to actually get something useful out of him, but I did manage it, after a while," Oscar explained, still frustrated.

"And?" Raven asked, prompting him to continue.

"I never did tell you why I wanted to come here. My goal was to ring the bell of awakening, and receive my undead quest. He told me that there are actually two bells of awakening. One's up above, in the Undead Church. Fitting, isn't it? The other one is underneath us, in the depths of Blighttown. He made it out as some awful, disease riddled place. Can't say I've heard much about it, myself. The parish, on the other hand... well, I do know how to get there. Bought a map from a now-hollow merchant in the Undead Asylum. Shall we?"

"First things first. I need a better weapon than this," Raven said, holding up her knife.

"What's on your mind?" Oscar asked.

"I'm not too strong, right now, but... I'd like something big." Raven said.

"That's rather vague, but... I think I know just the thing. I caught a glimpse of it on the way in. A massive Zweihander, plunged into the ground in what looked like a graveyard. It's a short distance from here, and unless you have a problem with taking something that's most likely placed as a memorial for a grave...?" Oscar trailed off, waiting for Raven's response. Raven vehemently shook her head. She hadn't ever even had enough scruples to stop her from robbing from the living, much less the dead.

"Wonderful. Let's go!" Oscar said cheerily, turning back towards the crestfallen warrior, jogging past him, up some stairs, and into a flooded building which appeared to be, at one point or another, a church. He looked around a second, then saw a gap in the wall, and led her through it. It was down another set of stairs, carved into the earth, and they were in the graveyard.

"Gods... this place is a mess," Raven commented, glancing at the piles of bones strewn around the graves. She could see the Zweihander, sticking up from the ground in front of a rather large grave, and moved towards it.

"Go ahead and grab it. I'll look around to see if there's anything else of value here. Since we're taking something, might as well go all the way, eh?" Oscar broke off from Raven, turning towards a pile of bones that looked promising. Raven walked up to the Zweihander, and paused to read the inscription, muttering it aloud.

"Here lies the father of giants, a legend in his own right," the inscription read. Raven chuckled, noting the size of the sword. It was fitting that such a large sword should belong to a giant. Raven placed her hands on the hilt, and heaved upwards, yanking the sword out of the ground. It was just light enough that her new, soul-enhanced muscles allowed her to wield it with both hands. She discarded her nearly useless shield. Then she heard the rattling.

"What the..." Raven started, as she saw the bones around her quiver, and then form into some skeletons. There was one skeleton which was especially large, and Raven swiped at it in desperation. The Zweihander sheared through it's leg bone effectively, causing it to fall over and explode into separate bones again. They continued to shake and draw back together, but Raven had other problems in the skeletons that had already formed around her.

"Oscar!" she called, but was answered by the sounds of sword striking bone, indicating that he was in a similar predicament.

_Well, let's see just how effective this thing_ is, Raven said, running away from the skeletons and turning back to face them, so she could see all four at once. One skeleton rushed at her, swinging it's light scimitar wildly. Raven raised the Zweihander to block, and the scimitar bounced harmlessly off of the blade in front of her. She raised the blade further, and brought it crashing down in an overhead slam. The skull and several other bones exploded into fragments, and the skeleton disintegrated, it's bones staying in scattered bits. The one-legged giant skeleton had fully re-formed now, and was hopping towards her ominously, but it wasn't the immediate threat. A second skeleton chose that moment to dive at her, before she had managed to bring the Zweihander up from her massive ground slam. She twisted out of the way, but the scimitar clipped her shoulder, drawing blood. The skeleton landed behind her in a pile of bones, and Raven stomped on the skull, which shattered. The rest of the bones stopped quivering.

_Interesting. Break the skull, and they can't re-form,_ Raven noted, raising the Zweihander to block a third skeleton's flurry of attacks. She swung horizontally, shearing the top half of the skull off. The skeleton crumbled. Raven dragged the Zweihander back to it's resting position on her shoulder just as the giant skeleton reached her, swinging it's fist downwards.

_No_ _weapon_? Raven thought as she sidestepped the blow, before realizing that she probably held the weapon that belonged to what must be the remains of the father of giants, then. She pulled upwards on the Zweihander as she realized that it had slipped off of her shoulder again as she dodged the skeleton's attack. The fourth standard skeleton jumped at her, swinging downwards, and by pure luck the blow bounced off of the Zweihander as Raven lifted it back to her shoulder. Raven spun, bashing the skeleton in the face with the pommel of the Zweihander. The skull caved in, and the skeleton crumbled, leaving her in a one-on-one fight with the remains of the father of giants.

_I really need to come up with a simpler term for him,_ Raven thought, and immediately the phrase 'Giant dad' popped into mind. _It works,_ she reasoned, raising the Zweihander to block. Sadly, it didn't do much against the giant skeleton's massive punch, and it sent her flying backwards, crushing a headstone and probably breaking several bones. Raven hastily took a swig of estus before she rose, feeling it's restorative effect course through her as she prepared to counterattack while the giant dad was off-balance. She jumped and swung overhead, not reaching the head but hacking through several of the giant dad's ribs, causing it to crumble. She raised the Zweihander into the air, bringing it slamming down on the giant dad's skull, shattering it. The bones stopped quivering. At that moment, Oscar rushed to her side, panting. He bore several gashes where his armor wasn't as thick, and was bleeding profusely from several of them.

"I came to help, but... It seems you fared better than I did," Oscar said wearily. He took a swig of estus, emptying his own flask, but it was only enough to heal some of the wounds.

"I'm going to be a bit more cautious when it comes to grave-robbing in coming days," Raven commented, setting the Zweihander comfortably on her shoulder, and Oscar seemed to recognize it, seeing it closer.

"The sword. You know it?" Raven asked, wanting to know more about it's history.

"Yes. It has quite the reputation. Belonged to the father of giants. Say, is that his grave there? I'll tell you more about it later. Shame that it didn't keep it's enchantment over the years, though. Used to be enhanced with a chaos flame. Ah, well. A formidable weapon regardless. Let's get out of here before we anger more of these bags of bones." Oscar turned to leave, then stumbled and fell. Raven gasped in concern.

"I'll manage. Just need a short rest at the bonfire, and I'll be good to go," Oscar said, climbing to his feet. They walked back to the bonfire in silence.

AN: Did you like my take on the original giant dad? Please state your opinions, and whether or not you think that the Zwei is more fitting for Raven than a Katana, which is what I was going to give her previously.


	3. Chapter 3: A Legend is Born

AN: Just a warning, this one is going to be pretty long. I'm trying to break the chapters up zone by zone, and I had a lot to write about the burg. Remember how I said I was going to be changing some dialogue? I'm switching around some item locations too, as well as adding a few new items to further the plot. Please don't be mad when you read that the black knight was NOT guarding the blue tearstone ring, but something else, never seen before.

Chapter Three: A Legend is Born

Oscar rose from the bonfire, looking much healthier than he had when they had sat down. Raven had offered the souls from the graveyard to the bonfire, reinforcing her muscles, working towards being able to wield the Zweihander, contrary to the meaning of it's name, with one hand. She hefted the massive sword onto her shoulder, grinning.

"Well, I think we're ready," Oscar observed, "Time to really get started." Oscar started up the hill towards the Undead Burg, and Raven followed close behind. Suddenly, as they crested the first rise, a hollow jumped at Oscar, who narrowly blocked the attack. Raven immediately jumped at the hollow, slicing him clean down the middle with an overhead swing. Oscar immediately parried a second soldier which jumped at them, impaling the soldier with his straight sword. Raven felt the rush of souls from both kills, as a third hollow jumped down from the top of the next hill, landing and immediately charging Raven, who raised her sword to point right at his chest, and he impaled himself on it as he ran forwards. She angled the tip downwards, shaking the hollow corpse off of the blade before bringing it back up to rest on her shoulder.

"That went well," Oscar commented, cleaning the blood off of his sword. Raven realized it was a good idea, and wiped off the Zweihander somewhat awkwardly, due to it's large size. They started up the next big climb, and immediately Raven, who was taking the lead this time around. She batted it aside reflexively with the Zweihander, but it exploded in a steam of fire that blew backwards into both of them. Raven stumbled at the heat, then charged forwards, swinging overhead with the Zweihander at the hollow who had thrown the firebomb, slicing him in half. Oscar rushed forwards, attacking another hollow soldier which was holding a battle axe at the ready. His Astoran straight sword slashed through it's poor armor, cutting it down in the blink of an eye. A third hollow jumped down from the top of the staircase leading from the top of the hill into the burg, slashing across Raven's back. She gasped and stood up, accidentally pushing him off the cliff with the sudden motion. She took a swig of estus, healing the firebomb burns as well as the slash wound from the hollow suicide jumper. She pulled the Zweihander back onto her shoulder, and breathed heavily. Oscar looked at her, slightly concerned, and she shrugged.

"Could've been worse," she stated, following him up the stairs into the burg, then gagged at the stench of the tunnel that Oscar turned into. He seemed a little disgusted too, when he realized that he was ankle-deep in sewage.

"Of course the entrance to the Undead Burg is a sewer. Why would it ever not be a sewer?" Raven asked rhetorically, disgusted.

"It's not tha-" Oscar was interrupted as he was tackled by a massive undead rat, which clawed at him several times, not doing much due to his armor, before turning towards Raven. It jumped at her, and she stepped to the side, letting the rat jump off the ledge on the outside of the tunnel and fall all the way down the hill, and off the cliff below. Oscar climbed to his feet, now covered in sewage.

"I'm willing to admit that it is quite disgusting," Oscar allowed, trying to shake off some of the muck without getting any on Raven, failing miserably at both tasks. Raven looked down at her clothes, which were now also splattered in sewage.

"Sorry," Oscar said, "Let's keep moving. We might be able to clean off up ahead." They slogged through the sewer tunnel until they reached a closed grate. There was a doorway just off to the side, and Oscar turned, heading up the stairs and back into the sun. Two hollow warriors waited for them at the landing that they emerged onto. Raven immediately cleaved one, an axe-user, in two, and the other one jumped backwards, raising it's cracked round shield warily. Oscar charged forwards, thrusting his straight sword through the hole in the shield, skewering the soldier, and immediately taking the brunt of a firebomb, stumbling backwards and falling off a ledge.

"Oscar!" Raven shouted, grabbing at his hand and missing, watching him fall onto an overhang just below. He bounced and rolled off of it, falling to the ground below that. He climbed to his feet.

"I think I see a way back up," Oscar shouted after looking around briefly, "I'll meet you up ahead. Continue without me!" Just then, Oscar was tackled by an undead dog, and fumbled with it. Raven wrenched herself away as she heard the whistling of another firebomb fuse behind her. She turned to duck just in time, and the firebomb whistled over her head, dropping down into the lower burg. She winced, before glancing down and realizing that Oscar had managed to block it with the dog, solving two problems at once.

AN: Accidental lower burg skip, eh? Leave a review if you liked it. Anyways, moving on.

"I'm fine," Oscar said, "Just keep moving!" Raven saw that he could handle himself, and turned to charge the firebomber. She lowered her Zweihander, point towards the hollow, and skewered him as she approached. She pulled the Zweihander around, flinging the corpse at a hollow whose footsteps she had heard behind her. The hollow was bowled over, and dropped off of a ledge. Raven didn't much care where it led, but she knew that it was in a different spot than where Oscar fell, so she hadn't just hindered him further. There was a fog wall leading into a building, and Raven stepped through. There wasn't an exit on the ground floor, but there were stairs leading upwards that looked to be worth exploring. Sure enough, at the top of the stairs, there was a doorway leading out onto a short bridge. As she stepped onto it, she heard flapping of wings, similar to the noise the giant crow had made, and she looked up expectantly. A giant red blur dropped down from above, landing on the bridge and throwing her backwards, disarming her. As she stood up, she saw that it was a massive drake, a poor imitation of the everlasting dragons from before the age of fire, but terrifying nonetheless. She snatched up her Zweihander and charged it, trying to reach it to attack, but it jumped again and flew away before she reached it. A hollow rushed her in turn as the dragon flew away, and she jumped backwards, out of reach of it's attack. She raised the Zweihander high above her head, bringing it crashing down on the hollow and cleaving him in two. A second hollow jumped from the top of the stairs at the far end of the bridge, preparing to attack her as he landed. She yanked the Zweihander back up, knocking him out of the air in two large, meaty chunks, before he ever hit the ground. She awkwardly wiped off the sword, and then set it to rest back on her shoulder, climbing up the stairs. She heard a crack, not quite the sound of a bowstring, but similar, and ducked, feeling the wind of an arrow pass above her head. She stood up, skewering another hollow completely by accident, and saw that the arrow was not an arrow at all, but rather a bolt. The shot had been fired from a crossbow archer up above. She rushed up yet another set of stairs, sidestepping a second bolt, and then decapitated the crossbow archer with a single horizontal swipe of the Zweihander. She hefted it back onto her shoulder, and turned around, examining her surroundings. There was a bonfire through a doorway to the left of the stairs she had climbed, as the archer had been to the right of them. She walked in, and saw Oscar, sitting calmly next to the fire. He was no longer covered in sewage. Raven felt the bonfire's warmth cause the gunk to evaporate from her, as well, and she hugged him.

"We were only separated for.. what was it, ten minutes, and you act like we were apart for years. I'm starting to wonder whether you have attachment issues, or whether you've actually developed feelings for me," Oscar commented, lifting her off of him and setting her down next to the bonfire. Raven blushed, recalling her sudden urge to kiss him as they were grasped together in the crow's talons, as well as how she had felt when he was lying helpless in the asylum, very near his death and hollowing.

"I thought as much," Oscar commented, nodding, "but I'm afraid we don't have the time for those sorts of feelings right now. We'll sort that out when this is all over." Raven nodded, feeling slightly disappointed but desperately hoping that it didn't show. Oscar gave no indication of whether he noticed or not, instead instructing her to offer the souls she had earned to the flame. She did so, further reinforcing her strength, moving ever closer to her goal of wielding her terrifying ultra greatsword with a single hand. She topped off her Estus, then rose, hefting the Zweihander back to her shoulder. Oscar moved towards the door, and immediately ducked back into the room as a crossbow bolt fired past him.

"What the hell?" Raven wondered aloud, "I could've sworn he was dead!"

"He was," Oscar explained, "But when you rest at a bonfire, it replenishes everything in the area, not just you. How do you think I managed to get to the bonfire with the crossbowman still alive?"

"Good to know. Let's kill these guys for the... third...? time," she declared, raising her Zweihander and charging out of the room, sidestepping a hollow which jumped at her from the stairs, missing and falling off of the landing to his demise far below. She brought the Zweihander up as she ran, slamming it down into the crossbow archer before he could even finish reloading from his last shot. Oscar emerged a moment later, cutting through a second hollow which was climbing the stairs at that moment. Raven heard firebombs explode behind her, and felt the heat from the flames wash over her a moment later. She turned to see a group of hollow soldiers, standing on an out of reach, precarious looking wooden platform, chucking firebombs at Raven and Oscar furiously. Fortunately, they all fell short of the pair, but unfortunately, if they tried to move across a narrow bridge that led towards the platform, they would be moving themselves into the firebombers' collective range.

"How are we going to do this?" Raven asked, looking at the new challenge that was presented before them. In response, Oscar handed her the crossbow of the dead hollow archer. She took it, grabbed a bolt from the corpse's quiver, and loaded the crossbow.

"Can you shoot it?" Oscar asked, and Raven peered down the bolt.

"It might take a couple tries to get it figured out, but I can make it work long before I run out of bolts," Raven replied. She pulled the trigger, sending the bolt sailing towards the nearest archer. It missed, but not by much, and Raven reloaded quickly, correcting her aim. The second bolt flew true, hitting and killing one of the three firebombers. She reloaded again, and fired. This time, she hit her target on the first try. That was two down. She grabbed another bolt, and reloaded quickly and efficiently, firing a fourth time, catching her third target right in the eye, exactly where she had aimed the bolt. He toppled off the wooden overhang, bounced off of the stone railing of the platform below, and fell again, rolling down a rocky cliff to his demise, if he wasn't already dead. She heard the metal clanging of Oscar's steel-clad hands clapping once more, and he seemed to be quite impressed, even with his visor covering his face. Raven stuck the crossbow into one of her larger pouches, and it barely fit as it was.

"Well done," Oscar said, "But there's plenty more to do. Moving on." He trotted across the bridge, into a room with two axe-wielding hollow warriors. He charged at the far one, leaving the near one for Raven to deal with. She sliced it in half at the waist with her Zweihander, killing it instantly. She felt the influx of souls from Oscar's opponent, indicating that he had killed that hollow, as well. There was an open gate at the back corner of the room, which Raven moved towards, before Oscar stopped her.

"That's the spot that I came out of after I fell down," he explained, "And it was a mess. Let's not go back there until we have to." Raven nodded in understanding, turning towards a wooden door that, presumably, led to the stone landing underneath the wooden platform which was previously occupied by hollow firebombers. Just as Raven reached the door, it was flung open, hitting her in the face and knocking her over. A hollow soldier, equipped with longsword and shield, stepped towards her. In a moment, Oscar was there, slicing once, then twice, at the hollow soldier. He fell to the ground, dead. Oscar extended a hand down to Raven, and she accepted it gratefully, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She picked up the Zweihander from where it hand landed on the ground, and continued out onto the landing. Looking around, she noticed that there were two possible exits.

"Let's split up," Raven decided after a few moments' thought, "I'll check inside the building. You check what's up above on the stairs." Oscar nodded, heading up the stairs. Raven raised her Zweihander, preparing to block an attack from anything that might be in the building. Sure enough, a hollow warrior jumped at her, and his attack bounced harmlessly off of her sword, already raised. She turned to swipe, cleanly slicing off his head. There were two more rooms adjacent, and she checked one, which was empty save for a chest at the back. She flipped it open, and found a stash of black firebombs inside. She grabbed them, stashed them into her pouch, and checked the other room. A hollow soldier jumped at her, and she reacted immediately, cutting it in half vertically with a quick downwards slash. The two halves of his corpse plopped to the ground around her. There wasn't anything else of note. Well, a dead end. Suddenly, she heard a clamor from above.

"Raven!" she heard Oscar call, and rushed up the stairs, looking around. She saw Oscar backed into a corner, by...

"Oh, gods," Raven muttered seeing the horror that was about to kill her friend. Dressed entirely in black armor and twice her height, it raised it's sword. Raven jumped forwards, slashing at it's armor. The Zweihander skirted off the armor, but did manage to scratch it, and turned the Black Knight's attention to her. Oscar scrambled to his feet, as the black knight swung at Raven. She dropped to the ground under the swing, coming up in a roll and slashing from left to right with the Zweihander, which this time found a gap in the armor, slashing a few inches into the black knight before it stuck there. The black knight looked down at her, it's carved helm looking almost condescending in that moment, as it raised it's sword to strike her. She yanked desperately, and the Zweihander pulled free of the black knight, but it wasn't enough to stop the blow, which caught Raven on the left shoulder as she jumped to the right, not quite cutting her arm off, but rendering it useless. Raven dropped the Zweihander, scrambling for her estus flask as the knight prepared to attack again, bringing it's large sword back in preparation for a thrust. She knew she wasn't going to make it. Just then, Oscar's blade erupted from the knight's chest, and it fell to it's knees, then forwards as he kicked it off of his blade. Raven took a swig of estus, sighing as she felt the muscles in her left shoulder heal, before tucking the estus away and retrieving the Zweihander from the ground. Then she yelped as the black knight began to rise from the ground. She hastily brought the Zweihander down on the black knight's neck, decapitating it. It fell limp, then disintegrated, leaving behind only a few chunks of it's pure titanite armor.

"Thanks for the save," Oscar commented, "I had handled seven hollows when it showed up, probably investigating the noise. Would've been done for if you hadn't come to the rescue."

"That's enough thanking, I think. Let's just both know that we're grateful when the other person saves us. Otherwise we'll wind up doing nothing else," Raven chuckled, and Oscar joined in.

"Hey, is your master key handy?" Oscar asked, "Try it on this door. There's a chest behind it that I saw from around back, but I don't have the key." Raven nodded, trying the master key on the door. Thankfully, the lock turned, and the door swung open. Raven walked through the room, and out onto the balcony in the back. Sure enough, there was a chest sitting on it. She pulled it open, and found some gold pine resin inside, divided neatly into three little pouches. She pocketed them, and hopped from the balcony onto the landing below. Oscar dropped to the stone tile as well, and gestured down the stairs.

"The black knight came up from down there. Let's see if he was guarding something," Oscar told her, heading down the stairs, and down the hallway. Sure enough, there was a corpse on a balcony, overlooking the lower burg. It was desperately gripping a golden ball, about the size of her fist, with an eye pattern printed on its surface. She took it, examining it curiously, and noticed a resonance between the orb and the Zweihander almost immediately.

"Say," Oscar said, raising a finger, "Is that a golden eye orb? This means that you've been called to carry on the mantle of a legendary hero. Is it resonating with the Zweihander? That can only mean one thing. You're a member of the Family of Giants, now. When we finish with the bells, there'll be a chance for you to learn your own fate, and I'll assist you in that just as you have helped me here. In the meantime, though, we still have bells to ring. Let's go." Oscar turned back to the way they came, and Raven followed him closely, up the stairs, and up further towards a tall tower. Oscar turned a corner, and Raven saw the burning barrel at the top of the stairs start rolling too late. She almost managed to shout a warning before he was bowled over by the barrel, which bounced down the stairs, over the railing, and smashed on the landing below. A hollow soldier charged towards the prone Oscar, only to find itself met by a heavy overhead blow of Raven's Zweihander. It's two halves fell to the ground on either side of Raven, and Oscar stood up, taking a swig of estus.

"All in favor of being more careful of traps from now on?" Oscar asked, and Raven raised her hand along with Oscar's own.

"Good," he said, "moving on." They continued up the stairs and into the tower, which had two possibilities. There was a spiral staircase leading upwards, and a large wooden door that presumably opened to a downwards-leading staircase.

"Let's try the door first. Basement might be a treasure room or something," Raven advised, and Oscar nodded. Raven tried the door, which was locked, and then tried her master key, which worked. The door swung open, and sure enough, opened to stairs leading downwards. Raven lead the way down the stairs, analyzing the barrels on the first two levels, which seemed decidedly empty otherwise. There was nothing in them, and Raven continued down to the bottom floor, where...

"Well, shit," Oscar said as he saw what was sprinting up the stairs at them. A man wearing full stone armor, with a stone greatshield and a massive curved club, was charging at them. He raised his club when he neared the top of the stairs, and Raven jumped off of them to the floor. Oscar, however, didn't move fast enough, and got squished to a pulp, his corpse disintegrating. She had to buy time until he caught up from the nearest bonfire. The stone-armored man jumped down from the stairs, landing in front of her, and froze as she raised the Zweihander.

"Where did you get that?" the man asked in shock, pointing to the massive sword.

"I found it in a graveyard, plunged tip-first into the ground in front of a large grave marked as belonging to the 'Father of Giants'. I also found this orb, marking me as his successor, right outside this tower," Raven said. The man lowered his club hastily, trying to make himself appear as unthreatening as possible.

"I'm sorry about your friend, there. If I had realized that you were the successor of the Father of Giants, I'd never have attacked you. Sad story, his. He was executed for serving Darkstalker Kaathe, the poor man. After he was killed, our rebellion was doomed to fail," the man explained.

"Rebellion?" Raven asked, "Also, I didn't get your name."

"You must truly be naïve, then," the man replied, "to not know exactly who I am. Name of Havel. I was a close friend to Lord Gwyn. My knights and I staged a rebellion against him when we saw the horrors that Gwyn was allowing in the being of Seath the Scaleless. The accursed paledrake was kidnapping women from across the land for his perverted experiments, trying to make himself immortal, and Gwyn turned a blind eye. We aimed to kill Seath, and Gwyn, if he tried to stop us, but as the Father of Giants was executed, we were discovered. My knights were sentenced to various stages of punishment depending on their rank in the rebellion, and I was imprisoned here, meant to go hollow, but I never lost sight of my mission. I never gave up hope. And here you are. I'm in debt to you for freeing me. Gwyn threw himself upon the first flame in a desperate attempt to undo the furtive pygmy's actions, but the flame now fades once again. Your friend is attempting to ring the bells, no? The choice is, obviously, his own, but I would urge him to allow the flame to fade, should he be chosen."

"That won't be so easy," Raven answered, "He's Astoran and a warrior of sunlight, an adherent of Gwyn." Havel winced visibly, despite his full faceplate.

"What in Gwyn's name-" Oscar's voice sounded from the top of the stairs, "So he isn't hollow?"

"No," Raven said, "He saw the sword and hesitated, giving me a chance to explain. He's agreed to help us."

"Indeed," Havel supplied, "And I am eager to be free of this improvised prison. Shall we continue forwards?" Oscar laughed and nodded, heading back up the stairs. Havel and Raven nodded to each other, agreeing to keep their secret for now. Then they followed him upwards. Havel stopped along the way to smash a barrel, which turned out to be holding a crystal lizard. It was immediately crushed, and Raven picked up the titanite it left behind. They continued upwards, stopping when the next segment of staircase was crumbled, and they could climb no further. There was a door covered in white fog on the far side of the tower. Upon stepping through, they heard a thundering noise. A chaos demon jumped down from the far tower, and began lumbering across the long bridge between the two towers. There was a ladder up the side of their own tower, and the group immediately began to climb. There were two archers, easily dispatched by Oscar and Havel, at the top. An instant later, the giant demon, resembling a bull, had reached the base of the tower.

"For Astora!" Oscar shouted, jumping off the tower and plunging downwards. His sword bounced off of it's thick skull, but it stumbled slightly, allowing Havel to perform a follow-up plunging attack.

"Anor Londo!" he shouted as he leapt, smashing his club into the demon's skull, resulting a loud crack. The bull demon stumbled again, but was still very much alive. It was Raven's turn. As she prepared to jump, she realized she needed a battle cry of her own. She remembered the inscription on the Giant Dad's tombstone, specifically the last half. "A legend in his own right," it had read. Now Raven was continuing that legend. And so it seemed fitting that, as she jumped, she shouted,

"The legend never dies!" She swung downwards with the Zweihander, cutting through the demon's already weakened skull. Her body, and the blade, continued downwards, cutting the entire demon, more than 15 feet tall, in two, and it's halves disintegrated into dust. She hit the bridge to find Havel laughing hysterically.

"What's so funny?" She asked, looking at him. Havel stopped laughing immediately.

"I shouldn't laugh. It's just that... that was the last thing the Father of Giants said, before he was crushed by Smough's hammer. You really are his successor in every way," Havel explained, a hint of a chuckle remaining in his voice.

"All right. Well," Oscar said, in the middle of grabbing a humanity sprite from the ashes of the dead chaos demon, "I think we can continue onwards to the Parish. Let's hope that no more of these monstrosities from Izalith show up to hinder us."

AN: So that's the burg for you. Yeah, I know that Havel is supposed to be hollow here, but I need him for story reasons. Feel free to leave reviews, and ask questions with them if you want. As you can see above, I'm perfectly fine answering questions in my forwards as the next chapter is released, but keep in mind, also as you can see above, that your question might be RAFOed. Again, apologies for the long chapter. Also, big question: Should I write Lautrec into the altered story, or would you prefer it if I kept his arc the same? I'll give you guys plenty of time to think on it.


	4. Chapter 4: Parish Panic

AN: And here's where all of my rather large breadcrumbs related to the legend all come together. Sorry for the long wait. I'm aiming for weekly releases, but I haven't quite managed it so far. To my audience, please hold me accountable. Send me private messages as reminders to write if I miss my deadline, or, whatever. The idea is that I'm publishing one every Monday, but as you can see, this one is late. Also, I've decided that I don't really care about high word count; this one is going to wind up being 5,000 words or more. Please leave reviews. I really do want to know what you think. Enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Four: Parish Panic

Raven stepped out onto the balcony, curiously examining the armored warrior standing on it, staring at the sun. Havel seemed equally confused, but Oscar laughed, rushing towards the warrior in delight. The man turned, revealing a T shaped visor on his bucket helm, and began laughing as well, before Oscar reached him and they hit the ground in an embrace. Both of them got up promptly, still laughing. Raven glanced crosswise at Havel, who shrugged.

"Solaire!" Oscar exclaimed, "It's good to see you, buddy!" They were both laughing with joy.

"I see you've found your own method of jolly co-operation," Solaire commented, nodding to Raven and Havel, and Oscar chuckled.

"This is Raven," Oscar said, gesturing to her, "and I'm sure you recognized Havel on sight."

"Ha. That I did. Say, do you mind if I join you on your mission? Who knows, I might find my sun along the way," Solaire was upbeat, maybe even more so than Oscar.

"Why not?" Raven entered the conversation, inviting Solaire along on their adventure before Oscar had a chance to refuse, which she didn't think he would, but she knew they needed all the help they could get. Who knew what horrors they would face next? Solaire chuckled, and came with the party back up the stairs, beginning to cross the bridge towards the parish. Suddenly, Raven heard a roar in the distance, and felt a jolt of panic shoot through her, and judging by Oscar's reaction, through him as well. Both of them broke into a sprint, trying to reach the far end of the bridge before the dragon arrived, leaving Havel and Solaire exchanging confused glances. They didn't get anywhere near close enough. Raven managed to reach a point where the bridge was wider, and took cover behind a corner as the bridge was doused in orange flames. The red drake swooped overhead, landing on top of the gate at the far side of the bridge. Raven quickly assessed the situation. Both Oscar and Solaire were down, screaming and desperately attempting to extinguish the flames that they were covered in. Havel rose to his feet, slightly singed but seeming otherwise fine. Raven turned towards the massive red drake, sitting in an imposing manner on the other end of the bridge. It almost looked smug. Raven chuckled, meaning to fix that. She pulled out the crossbow she had obtained in the burg, loading it with a bolt and taking careful aim, waiting for Havel to catch up. Solaire and Oscar were as good as dead by this point, and she would have to pick them up as their darksigns regenerated them at the bonfire, barring that they had gone hollow.

"Well, that went poorly," Havel said, taking cover next to her as he caught up, "But it looks like you have a plan. Care to explain?"

"I'm going to try and hit the drake through the eye," Raven said, and Havel chuckled.

"You don't think I can manage it?" Raven asked accusingly. Havel fervently shook his head.

"Of course I think you can manage it. I just don't think it's really going to DO much. It's eye has a clear membrane over it that'll make the arrow bounce clean off. Here, try this instead," he said, pulling out a bow that was taller than she was, and handing her an arrow to match.

"Where did you even keep this?" Raven asked, looking at him incredulously.

"Bottomless box," Havel said, like that explained everything, "You can keep the thing, if you want. Never had much use for it myself. Regardless, a greatbow like that should do far better against this beast than that little toy." Raven nodded, and nocked an arrow.

"So, you shoot it in the eye. It'll probably jump down to swipe at you. What then?" Havel asked, listening intently once more.

"Then I want you to rush in, smack it's head sideways so that any flames that it might breath are directed away from us. Keep it occupied, I'll rush around to cut it's tail off. That thing looks just as dangerous as anything else. Then we just take turns getting it's attention, make it spin back and forth, keep it off balance. Should kill it fast enough," Raven commented.

"Sounds fair," Havel nodded in agreement, "I'll get it's attention while you charge up for the shot. You need to plant one end on the ground before you can draw it, takes time. If it's focusing on you, long enough for you to get burnt to a crisp." With that, he jumped out from cover, yelling and making noise. Raven stood up as well, anchoring the bow and drawing it, aiming the massive arrow. The dragon inhaled, preparing to roast Havel alive, when she released the arrow. It flew true, skewering through it's eye and actually stunning it for a brief moment. Raven dropped the greatbow, intending to come back for it when the dragon was dead, and lifted the Zweihander onto her shoulder.

As predicted, the dragon jumped from the bridge in rage, and Havel followed the plan to the letter. His massive club batted it's head away from both of them, and the flames it spewed out flew harmlessly away from the bridge, dispersing over the burg below. Raven sprinted past it, slashing with the Zweihander and hewing a good chunk of the way through the tail. A second quick hack and it came completely off, disintegrating to leave behind a small straight sword. That's when everything went wrong. As she was expecting, the dragon spun dramatically to face her. However, as it spun, the leading edge of it's wing caught Havel, flinging him off the bridge and sending him plummeting to his death. The dragon inhaled dramatically, preparing to roast her. She desperately snatched the golden eye orb out of one of her satchels, focusing on it's printed pattern. She felt an otherworldly pull, and dematerialized. The dragon's flames met empty space.

Raven found herself on a platform overlooking a city, gilded and lit beautifully by the setting sun. She shivered at the sensation of being incorporeal, even for a moment, before shaking her head to clear the sensation. Her position left her only one way to go, with stairs leading down into the bulk of the city. Before she had descended very far, the clamoring of a populous region came into her hearing, and she grinned. She missed those sounds, heard throughout Carim, Zena and Astora, the three regions that she had visited. The stairs ended in a balcony which led into a building. There were several giants working on the construction of a statue inside, all towering over her by massive amounts. There were smaller folk, too, but none nearly as short as she was. As a human, she felt dwarfed by the population of what she could only assume was the great city of Anor Londo. Her small size, instead of causing her to vanish, turned heads as she went, everyone commenting and murmuring about the human appearing in the city. What drew infinitely more interest, however, was her sword. Once they had noticed her, their eyes invariably fell upon the Zweihander, and they gasped. She looked around, trying to see anyone who might be the Father of Giants. She saw plenty of giants, but none of them looked like they would be titled based on their fatherhood. She kept walking, coming out onto a landing with people bustling about, coming to and fro, up from a lift that led down further into the city, and flowed into and out of three distinct entrances. She had little idea what any of them were doing, but she didn't much care. She continued walking, analyzing the crowd. She saw no might-be Giant Dads. She decided to try," the lift, rather than checking the rooms. Likely someone so noteworthy would be in the palace, rather than near the entrance to the city. As she stepped into the room, waiting for her turn to use the lift, she suddenly felt a knife at her throat, and gasped.

"You're not welcome here, human," a feminine voice spat in a harsh whisper, "And I don't care about that massive imitation you're toting around." Raven tried to turn around to see her assailant, but she was held firm by a second blade at her back. Then she looked down at the blade at her throat. It was a shimmering, golden-orange tone. A gold tracer, just like the one that...

"Ciaran," Raven whispered in awe, and Ciaran scoffed.

"Oh, you know my name. Am I supposed to be impressed? I'm only one of Gwyn's four knights, no big deal," Ciaran replied, her voice practically dripping with sarcasm. Raven, panicking, searched for something to say. Then she realized that she didn't have to say anything. She simply slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out the golden eye orb, holding it up over her shoulder, before tucking it back into her pocket.

"You're kidding," Ciaran exclaimed, "A HUMAN? A damned HUMAN found the legacy of... oh, let me guess. The Father of Giants? And a woman, no less. He's not going to accept you, you know. You just don't fill the role."

"Oh, really?" Raven asked, and spun the hand that was still anchoring the Zweihander to her shoulder, causing it to pivot and bash Ciaran in the side of the head. She spun, following up the opportunity strike with a horizontal slash that stopped inches short of Ciaran's neck. Her eyes went wide.

"Fine. I'll let you have an audience. Don't get your hopes up, though," Ciaran said in disgust, "Follow me." Raven complied immediately, amazed at the fluke that had allowed her to best Ciaran in mere seconds. Raven caught her mumble something about Artorias being a distraction, but she didn't come anywhere close to catching it all. Ciaran led her off the lift platform, across a bridge, and up to the palace itself. Before entering, however, she turned to the left, and opened a door. Inside was a giant blacksmith.

"Hello, Ciaran," the blacksmith mumbled.

"Hello," Ciaran replied with a more friendly tone than she had used with Raven, before asking, "Have you seen the Father of Giants?"

"Upstairs," the giant answered, before continuing to tap away at a sword which was far too small for anyone Raven had seen so far in Anor Londo to use. Ciaran practically dragged her up the long staircase in frustration, coming to an enclosed area with stained glass windows looking out over the rest of Anor Londo, while also overlooking the palace below. Sure enough, a giant stood there, swinging about a Zweihander that matched Raven's own, although it was much more proportional to him than it was to her. It left trails of flame as he swung it back and forth, and Raven watched in awe as he performed a few quick striking blows with the blade, before standing up straight, acknowledging their presence.

"Hello, Ciaran," the Giant Dad rumbled, "and who might this be?" he asked, turning to Raven, spreading his arms wide. He wore a mask which certainly looked like a father. It was no wonder he had the title he did. Raven, in response bowed deeply, only to find that he flicked her, causing her to stumble and fall over.

"If you want to succeed me, you must learn my ways. Never bow. Greet your friends and enemies alike with arms spread wide." The Giant Dad demonstrated once again, and Raven imitated him, announcing her name as she did so. She had to be honest with herself, it felt pretty good. The Giant Dad chuckled. Raven glanced over at Ciaran, who was scowling noticeably.

"Oh, Ciaran," the Giant Dad turned to look at her, "Again with your bias against humans? She learns quickly. I think that she'll be perfect to carry on the mantle, although some... adjustments will have to be made to the title, given her gender." Ciaran scoffed and trudged off.

"So, do you have a name?" Raven asked, "Or must I say Father of Giants every time I wish to address you?" The Giant Dad's laughter boomed through the air.

"I like you. You're bold. I want that, in my successor. Yes, I have a name. It's Arthur, and you have permission to use it," the Giant Dad replied.

"Pleased to meet you, Arthur," Raven said, spreading her arms wide again. Arthur chuckled.

"Now that we have that out of the way. I'm afraid that your time here is brief. The flow of time in Lordran is convoluted, but it does have it's limits. Soon enough, you'll be drawn back to your own time. I have a way to bypass some of the training required, but you still require lessons. To prevent over-long explanation of what you have to do, take this list," Arthur handed her a sheet of paper with a bunch of bullet points on it, "It lists the items you have to find in your world, and lists a few possible locations for each. Those might be wrong, I can't see the future. Also unfortunately, I didn't anticipate you being your size, so I can't give you any of the items you need. I can, however, rekindle the flame of that blade. Let me see it." Raven complied, offering the Zweihander up to Arthur, who took it respectfully. He raised it into the air, and a pyromancy flame ignited in his other hand. He touched the blade, which blazed to life. Arthur handed the blade back to Raven, who gave it a few experimental swings. Sure enough, a dark red flame trailed after the blade, indicating that it's enchantment was working once more.

AN: FIRE THE BASS CANNON! Sorry, I couldn't resist. Moving on.

"Now, that list says the Mask of the Father, but... I think that the Mask of the Mother would be more suited to you, given... well," Arthur said with another chuckle, "Now, a few lessons. You already know how to use the sword, that much is clear. However, there are strategies beyond just the sword that you have to know. First, Pyromancy will be invaluable to you. I can't bestow a flame upon you, but I can teach you the spell that you should use." Arthur demonstrated a body twist leading with the flame in his left hand. A massive explosion of fire plumed out in front of him, but was dark red and black, and seemed to consume light rather than emit it. Raven quickly memorized the spell, and Arthur chuckled.

"One last thing, before you must go. Your sword's flame is fueled by your humanity. The more you have, the more effective it will be. Be ruthless, Raven. Serve my legacy well." Arthur finished his sentence just in time, as Raven felt an otherworldly pull, being yanked back to her present. Oh, hell. The drake was still right there, looking at her confused. Raven spread her arms wide, as Arthur had required of her, and the drake prepared to strike. Just as it did, Raven dropped the pose, and took a swipe at the dragon, the red flame beam slashing across the drake's snout. Several shards of teeth and a few scales fell to the ground, and Raven followed up with another swipe that cut the drake's bottom jaw off, and a third and final slash that cut it's head off. The drake dissolved into smoke, leaving behind only it's tail sword. Raven stumbled backwards as she absorbed more souls than she had ever felt before. Just then, Oscar, Solaire, and Havel came running across the bridge to her assistance. All three of them stopped, shocked, as they saw that there was no drake.

"You killed it on your own?" Havel asked, sounding impressed. Solaire and Oscar just stood there, unable to form sentences. Raven picked up the drake sword, tossing it to Solaire, who, in his shock, almost didn't catch it.

"Probably better than that ceremonial thing you've got," she explained when Solaire gave her a quizzical look. He gave it a few experimental swings, and while he was learning it's balance, she pulled out Arthur's list, looking it over.

\- Grass Crest Shield: Somewhere between the Undead Parish and Darkroot Basin? Likely guarded by a black knight.

\- Mask of the Father: Firelink Catacombs? The Tomb of Giants? - Owned by Pinwheel, also possesses masks of Mother and Child.

\- Giant Armor: Giant Blacksmith in Anor Londo. Ask for a custom set if not a giant.

\- Havel's Ring: Obtain from Havel or one of his knights.

\- Ring of Favor and Protection: Good luck. There's more than one out there, that's about all I can say

\- Pyromancy Flame: Find a pyromancer. They aren't that rare.

\- Dark hand: Talk to Kaathe.

Raven's eyes hovered over Havel's Ring, and glanced up at Havel, biting her tongue.

"What's that?" Havel inquired, pointing to the list that Raven held.

"Oh... The Father of Giants, he-" Raven couldn't get further than that before Oscar interrupted her.

"You spoke with him alone? I was going to come with you, provide backup. It could've been dangerous!"

"More dangerous than fighting a drake by myself? Not that I blame you, it's not any of your faults. The point is, I wanted to get away from the dragon, and the orb was the only way that I could do that. I got dragged back after a while, though, and wound up having to kill it on my own anyways. Oh, wait. You're right. It is more dangerous than fighting a drake solo. I nearly got into a fight with Ciaran, you see..." Raven winced. She had gotten way too defensive, over Oscar's concern.

"Wait, wait," Solaire butted into the conversation, now, "You met CIARAN? As in the LORD'S BLADE CIARAN? Now I'm sorry I wasn't there." He ended in a chuckle, and Raven shook her head.

"It wasn't like that. She was up in my face, just looking for any excuse to kill me. She was actually disappointed when Arthur took a liking to me. That's the Father of Giants' name, in case you didn't know."

"Well, that's not what I was expecting," Havel said, "She was never that way with me." As he said this, he moved to pick up the greatbow, and slid it back into his bottomless box.

"Shall we move on?" Raven asked, looking towards the gate which the drake had been perched on. Everyone nodded collectively, and Raven headed through, lighting the bonfire that was set up just on the other side.

"Let's all take a rest here," Solaire said, "Before we continue on our way." The party sat down, and Raven offered the souls from the drake to the flame, feeling herself grow stronger. When they all stood up, she did a quick experiment, performing a horizontal swipe with the Zweihander in only her right hand. She grinned as she didn't overbalance or drop the sword. She hefted it back to her shoulder, and went back to two-handing it, having nothing to use in her other hand. A hollow soldier charged them as they exited the bonfire anteroom, and Havel quickly squished him flat. Raven looked up the tower, and decided to check on what was at the top. She gestured for the rest of the group to follow, and began to climb up to the top of the tower. At the top, a black knight with a massive ultra greatsword loomed over her. She immediately took a swing at it, breaking through it's armor and causing it to stumble. Havel was the next up the stairs, and followed up her attack with a slap to the face with his club, causing the knight to stumble further. Raven spun the Zweihander back in the other direction, slashing again. The knight managed to get it's shield up, but Raven broke his guard and shoved him back even further. A massive blast of energy, unleashed from Solaire's new drake sword as he reached the top of the tower, sent the black knight over the railing of the tower, plummeting to his doom. Oscar was the last one up the tower, and frowned as there was no action left for him to take.

"Don't worry, Oscar," Solaire reassured him, "There seems to be an armored boar in yonder courtyard with your name written on it!" Both knights chuckled at this, and began charging down the tower. Raven took the opportunity to survey the courtyard a bit better, and saw a soldier ready to close the gate, barring their progress. She extended a hand to Havel.

"Greatbow, please," she said, looking at him pointedly. Havel produced it, along with an arrow, and Raven deftly planted the bow, drew, and fired. The arrow flew true, striking the gate guard in the chest and bowling him over.

"Thank you," Raven said, handing the greatbow back to Havel.

"You have a good tactical mind," Havel commented, nodding in appreciation, "Now. Shall we go save those two from their own arrogance?"

"I think so," Raven agreed, taking the stairs back down the tower at a run. When she rushed into the courtyard, she saw that Oscar and Solaire were handling things with the armored boar quite well, taking turns distracting it and stabbing it through chinks in it's armor. However, there were a few crossbow archers above them, training their sights and setting up for a good shot. There were also several soldiers that were hanging back, not wanting to get caught in the boar's thrashing.

"Handle the ones on the ground," Raven instructed Havel, "I'll take care of the archers." Havel rushed into the fray without hesitation, smashing a soldier flat. Raven glanced around the courtyard, seeing a staircase leading upwards towards the archers. Raven rushed up it, and was met by a spear-wielding hollow soldier at the top, barring her path to the archers. She didn't much care, batting the shield aside with her foot before decapitating the soldier with her massive, flaming Zweihander. The archers looked up with expressionless faces as Raven charged, shoulder-bashing the first one off of the ledge and onto a burning pyre constructed just below. The second one was cleaved vertically in two as Raven performed a massive overhead slam, before hopping off of the small bridge onto the ground, landing nimbly. Havel had just finished dispatching the final soldier on the ground, but Oscar and Solaire were still working on the boar. Havel watched from where he was standing, amused, but Raven was getting impatient. She rushed in and hacked through the boar's armor in one swing, chopping it's rather sizeable head off. The boar disintegrated into ash as she did so, leaving only a hollow, empty helmet clattering across the cobblestones.

"We were handling it!" Oscar exclaimed, frustrated that she had stolen yet another enemy from him.

"Yeah, and I was getting bored. Deal with it," Raven told him, and Solaire patted him on the back.

"Relax," Solaire told Oscar, "I'm sure there are plenty more foes to come! Shall we?" This last bit was directed to the entire group, who collectively nodded, and walked across the courtyard.

"So," Solaire asked Havel as they walked, "Why are you helping us? I mean, we've all got our goals. I'm here trying to find my own sun. My friend Oscar aims to ring the bells of awakening to receive his own undead mission. Raven, well, she intends to succeed the Father of Giants. A mighty task, that. What about you? What are your goals?"

"Revenge," Havel stated simply, "I want revenge against the paledrake, Duke Seath the Scaleless, whose crimes got me imprisoned. I want revenge against the Dark Sun Gwyndolin, who whispered in his father's ear that I was guilty. I want revenge against Velka, who set up the whole blasted system to begin with. That enough of a list for you, or should I go on?" Havel looked Solaire right in the eyes, daring him to ask Havel to continue. Raven knew that he was just looking for an excuse to add Lord Gwyn himself to that list, although Raven subtly shook her head at him. She didn't want their party tearing itself apart before they even approached their goal. Solaire, thankfully, declined the offer.

"I get the point, friend," he said, "And I've never really liked any of those three anyways. Gwyndolin, especially. He was largely responsible for expunging my master from the histories, wanting to be king himself. No love for Gwyn, either. What was he thinking, rejecting his own son like that, just because he decided that not all dragons were evil? Gwyn himself came to the same conclusion. Just downright hypocritical, that one." The news hit Raven like a bucket of water. She stopped dead, startled.

"Wait. You mean that you don't serve Gwyn?" Raven said, looking at him, not even coming close to keeping her shock from her face.

"Of course not. We serve his firstborn son, the Nameless King," Solaire replied, looking at her like it was common knowledge. With how many other things Raven had needed clarification on, she realized, it probably was. She burst out laughing at her own stupidity, and got funny looks from all three of them. She barely noticed, and just kept laughing. Finally, Oscar nudged her, and she looked up.

"Raven?" he asked, looking concerned through his helmet, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Raven replied, traces of laughter still in her voice, "Just laughing at my own stupidity. Here we were, Havel and I, keeping a secret from you because we thought your allegiance was to Gwyn. I just feel so..." she trailed off again as she was struck by another bout of laughter.

"What se-" Solaire started, before an estoc erupted from his chest, and he gasped in pain, before his corporeal body faded. With horror, Raven realized that the noise her laughter had made had attracted a hollow knight who had been, until this point, likely guarding the church. She immediately slashed him in half with her Zweihander, as two more knights formed up around her. Oscar immediately broke off to fight one, while Havel engaged the other. That was, until a bolt of blue, magical energy hit him in the side of the helmet, and he looked up.

A six-eyed, robed figure wielding a 3-pronged spear, appearing to double as a catalyst, stood at the entrance to the church, behind a throng of glowing blue hollows

"The channeler is mine!" Havel shouted, rushing forwards. Raven took over his battle, and immediately found her massive sword batted aside easily by the knight's round buckler, and it's massive weight yanked it out of her hand. It clattered uselessly to the ground, leaving her wide open. The knight prepared to thrust, but a sudden burning feeling formed inside Raven, and she channeled it. A massive plume of black flame, in the form of the spell that Arthur had taught her, erupted from her left hand, blowing the knight backwards. A charred husk was all that was left by the time his corpse hit the ground. Oscar, having just dispatched his own enemy, turned to look on her in awe.

"You never told us you were a pyromancer," Oscar said, pointing at the glowing flame flickering in her open left palm.

"I'm not. Or at least... I wasn't," Raven said, extinguishing the flame in her palm before grabbing the Zweihander off the cobbled ground.

"That's impossible," Oscar told her, "Someone has to give you a flame. You can't just... make one."

"This isn't the time to discuss it," Raven scolded, "seeing as we're in the midst of battle." As if on que, Havel let loose a mighty scream as he swung his club towards the channeler. A deft thrust of it's trident to his chest interrupted his swing, although it had no effect against his armor. A myriad of broken blades clattered against his armor, as hollow after hollow, controlled by the channeler, attacked his off-balance form. Most simply bounced off, but one or two found gaps, and Havel gasped, dropping to one knee.

"Havel!" Raven shouted, rushing into the fray and cleaving between 3 and 4 soldiers in two with a single swipe. She summoned flame back to her hand, and an explosion dispatched six more. The channeler's attention was entirely on her, now, and the recovering Havel had apparently been forgotten. That was the last mistake that this creature would ever make. It stumbled forwards as Havel's massive dragon tooth club slammed into it's back. Raven thrust her Zweihander forwards, skewering it, and a second slam from Havel's club pushed it's still thrashing form all the way up onto the false guard. A bit of focus on Raven's part, and the Zweihander's fiery enchantment flared to life, reducing the channeler to ash.

Now it was Havel's turn to be stabbed in the back, as he was flung forwards onto Raven's still-extended Zweihander, skewering him as well, and he dissolved into ash himself. A hulking knight, easily ten feet tall, stood facing her, and raised a massive tower shield as a wall between them.

"For Astora!" Oscar shouted, rushing at the knight from the side. The knight spun incredibly fast, shield bashing him in the face and knocking him flat on his back, before raising it's mace to crush him. Raven spun, slashing upwards and hacking through the haft of the mace, which repelled her blow. The mace crashed down on Oscar, crushing him. However, the blow snapped the weakened mace in two, and Raven now faced an unarmed, albeit well-defended, knight. Raven hastily blasted it with a black flame, causing it to stumble under the sheer force of the combustion. She proceeded to slam the Zweihander into the side of it's calf, and it dropped to one knee. She whirled around, decapitating the hulking knight. She lifted the Zweihander back onto her shoulder just as Solaire rushed up.

"What happened to everyone?" he asked, looking around at the aftermath of the battle.

"Oscar was crushed," Raven began, "and Havel was impaled after being bludgeoned, slashed, and also crushed. You got off easy with a sword through the chest." Solaire looked surprised at the flickering flame that was still burning in her hand.

"No, this isn't the secret that we were keeping," Raven told him, "It just sort of... happened."

"That's curious," Havel said as he arrived, panting, "but I see you dealt with the Berenike Knight quite easily. Say, where's Oscar?"

"Crushed," Raven and Solaire reported in unison. Havel chuckled.

"Are you laughing at me?" Oscar demanded as he arrived just after Havel.

"I'm afraid so," Havel replied, "But it's all well and good. We're all still human. No harm done, right?"

"I suppose," Oscar replied, "but I really do mean to discuss that flame of Raven's, once we can confirm that all of the enemies in this accursed church are dead. Let's keep moving, shall we?" The group collectively nodded, and headed into the church. Immediately, Raven caught sight of something laying on the altar. Picking it up, she realized it was a glowing white flower-shaped crystal, seeming to radiate life and healing energy.

"Well, I'll be..." Havel observed, "That's a fire keeper's soul. Hand it here, will you? I'll hang onto it." Raven handed the soul reverently to Havel, who slid it into his bottomless box. The party wordlessly continued up a set of stairs to the right, and up a few ladders after that. They arrived at a shimmering white light.

"The bell tower is going to be on the other side of this," Oscar announced, "But there's doubtless something big guarding it. My money is on another damned drake. Maybe even a dragon. Anyways, have Raven go through first, and bait out whatever is over there, since she hasn't died since we've known her. I have no idea how she's so lucky, but she's the most likely of us to survive an initial attack. We'll follow her through once the creature reveals itself. Got it?"

Raven nodded hesitantly, as Havel and Solaire nodded eagerly.

"I've never died before," Raven mumbled to herself as she stepped through the fog, "This'll be interesting." But there was nothing there. She came through to an empty roof, and strolled right across. When she was about halfway, she heard stone cracking, and looked around, only to see one of the gargoyles on the bell tower come to life before leaping down at her with flaming breath. Raven ducked underneath a majority of the spout of flames, but the cloth on her back was ignited, and she yelped, feeling the heat on her back. The gargoyle landed on the far side of her, and turned it's attention to her three companions. Raven stood up, taking a swig of estus, and charged the gargoyle from behind, lopping off it's tail as she slashed at it. The bulk of the tail melted away, leaving only the axe at it's tip behind. A lightning spear thrown by Solaire took it in the face, and Oscar quickly followed suit. Raven summoned the black flame once again, and let it loose on the gargoyle's side. Havel was the last one to reach the beast, and crushed it's head under his club.

"That was ea-ahh!" Raven's sentence degenerated into a scream as she suddenly felt herself lifted off of the ground. She looked up to see the gargoyle carrying her high into the sky.

"Raven!" Havel called, as the gargoyle turned west, ascending towards the mountains in the distance. As it crested their peaks, Raven was greeted with a very familiar sight. The city of Anor Londo shone in all it's glory before her. Raven immediately slashed at the gargoyle, cutting it's head off and dropping onto the same landing that the golden eye orb had placed her on, not long ago.

AN: Leave a review to pick which character you want the story to follow as a parallel perspective to Raven! I'm currently leaning towards Havel, but you can feel free to suggest Oscar. I'll even do Solaire, if enough people comment on him. Hope you enjoyed!


	5. Chapter 5: The Bonds We Share

AN: Not much to say about this one. I didn't really get many PoV requests very quickly, and to stay on schedule, I have to move on. I'm writing for Oscar and Raven, now. With that out of the way, let's get started. Also, keep an eye out for Onion Bro!

Chapter Five: The Bonds We Share

Raven felt cold as she walked through the city of Anor Londo. It was still populated sparsely by giants, but they seemed like statues more than anything else. She had even prodded one in the leg with her Zweihander's pommel, and still got no reaction out of it. As she wandered, she heard the tolling of a bell, likely the first bell of awakening. She came to a ledge near the lift, and had a brilliant idea. She stepped off the ledge, closing her eyes and feeling the air whistle by her face, the ground rapidly approaching. She wasn't prepared for the pain she felt upon hitting the bottom, and screamed in pain. She realized she wasn't on the bottom of the ledge, but rather sitting in front of a bonfire. Oh, thank goodness. It had worked. Wait. The room was wrong. Instead of a dual-gated room with a statue and a cobble floor, she found herself in a bronze room, light by torches with a slick tile floor. There was a single, giant-sized doorway leading in a staircase upwards, and a woman in brass armor leaning against the wall.

"Well, this is unexpected. We do get arrivals on occasion, but there are always two bells rung first. I only heard one set of ringing. How did you manage to convince the giants to open Sen's Fortress?" The woman spoke in a droll monotone.

"Who what, now? No, the gargoyle from the Parish dropped me up here," Raven replied, "And for some reason I got diverted to this bonfire instead of the one in the Parish!" Raven's voice and pitch raised to a yell, expressing her frustration, and she slammed her Zweihander into the wall. It clanged loudly, knocking Raven off-balance and causing her to drop the Zweihander. She snatched it up again as the woman chuckled.

"The city is sealed. You can't leave except by the power of the Lordvessel," she said to Raven, who growled, raising her sword.

"No need to get so riled up! It's in the palace, guarded by dragon slayer Ornstein and executioner Smough. I'd imagine that you'd be eager to kill at least the latter, based on that thing," she droned, gesturing to Raven's Zweihander. Come to think about it, it would be rather satisfying to avenge her predecessor. A dragon slayer could be a useful ally, though. Setting her face, she climbed up the stairs and headed into the bulk of Anor Londo.

* * *

Oscar looked, frantically, after Raven. As much as he had tried to shut down her affection for him in the burg, he couldn't deny that he did have feelings for her. He watched, distantly, as the gargoyle suddenly burst into flames before disintegrating, and watched the speck that was Raven drop out of his view, falling on the other side of the mountain.

"She might manage to get back to the bonfire," Oscar said, "So, however strange this sounds, let's hope she didn't survive that. I'll ring the bell. Solaire, Havel, can you get to the bonfire to greet her?" The pair turned to head back to the bonfire, and Oscar hurried up the tower. Two excruciatingly long ladder climbs later, Oscar heaved a lever, and the bell swung back and forth, tolling loudly. Oscar hurried down the ladder to greet Raven, but instead was met in the main church by Solaire and Havel.

"What happened?" Oscar asked, and both of them shook their heads sadly.

"We saw a distortion, like what happens right before someone appears. We saw her, for a brief moment, but then she somehow seemed to get yanked away from us, pulled towards a different bonfire somewhere. I'm sorry," Solaire told him. Oscar growled in frustration.

"Wait... you have feelings for her, don't you?" Solaire said, seeing how desperate he was getting. Oscar nodded slightly, embarrassed.

"Nothing to be ashamed of," Havel told him, "everyone feels it at some point. For me, it was this one girl from Catarina..."

"That's enough talk of that," Solaire interjected, seemingly flustered, "So, what are we going to do to get her back?"

"She was flown off to the west, over the mountains. There's a few large buildings between here and there. The one should be tall enough to get a view over the mountains, and maybe there's a way to follow her over them. Let's not waste a second more," Oscar announced, rushing off across a bridge towards the first building in the complex. Havel broke off from the group, holding up the firekeeper soul and explaining that he was going to cash it in at firelink shrine before he caught up.

* * *

Raven swore extensively as she materialized at Anor Londo's bonfire for the ninth time, the failed suicide attempt notwithstanding. Her thick cloth armor was in tatters, having been slashed by gargoyles and painting guardians, impaled by lightning spear-wielding bat-wing demons, and, most recently, and frustratingly, skewered by massive arrows. Fortunately, she could request a set of new, and better, armor when she reached the giant blacksmith. She had a general idea of where she was going, and set off hustling across the bridge yet again. She had almost become methodical in how she approached the massive city of giants, and decapitated the bat-wing demons almost on autopilot, before rushing down the long strut, slashing two more bat-wing demons in half, and rushing towards the archers. She had tried killing them with her Zweihander, but had lost her balance on the narrow ledge they perched on, slipping and falling off. It was time to try something different. She summoned her pyromancy flame in her left hand, and blasted one archer, on more stable footing than the other, in the face. The conflagration flung it backwards, and sent it sailing off the cliff. Just below it was a corpse, glowing with light. Raven crouched by it, avoiding an arrow from the other archer sheerly by luck, before retrieving a soul, which, judging by the size belonged to a great hero. Raven turned, running along the narrow ledge and blowing the other archer clear. She carefully edged around a tower, before slipping and falling off the ledge.

_Oh, come on!_ Raven thought during her brief moment of falling, before she realized that she had hit the ground, nearly unharmed. She was on a balcony with a single doorway leading into the palace, where the Lordvessel was waiting for her. Shimmering white mist covered it, and she stepped through, finding herself in long hallway with a few doors. She tried the one on the left first, and found that she was in room with a crackling bonfire. She crushed a humanity sprite before she sat down, feeling her exhaustion wash off of her as well as restoring her human body, before standing up and trying the opposite door. It led into a dark, gloomy room with very little furniture, and an empty mantle, seeming pretty suspicious as it didn't even have an indentation for a fireplace. She tapped the brick experimentally, and the walled off section tipped away, revealing a secret crawl hatch into an even darker room, with some chests lining the walls. Holding up her pyromancy flame for light, she walked towards the chest. She opened one, and found a dragon tooth, similar to the one Havel wielded. Opening a second chest, she found pieces of Havel's armor. She started getting hopeful as she dug through, and, sure enough, she found a small, stone-faced ring. She pulled off the Old Witch's Ring, a talisman that she had found upon being thrown into her cell in the asylum, and placed Havel's ring on her finger. Immediately, she felt lighter, as if she could jump and touch the ceiling. She realized that, with such light armor, the ring didn't much matter. When she met the giant blacksmith, it would. There was a third chest in the room, though, and her curiosity got the better of her. She flung the chest open, and immediately saw a tongue. The chest mimic jumped at her, latching onto her head and chest.

* * *

"Who might this be?" Oscar asked, examining the knight in front of them. His armor resembled an onion, and his snoring was quite loud.

"I have no idea, but I can only hope that he wishes to add to our jolly co-operation," Solaire replied, seeming quite jolly indeed. The attitude was a slap in Oscar's face, and he took a deep breath, trying very hard in that moment not to explode at his sunny-tempered friend.

"Not so jolly anymore, without the woman who brought us all together," Oscar replied, unable to keep all of his annoyance out of his voice. Solaire looked surprised, from what Oscar could see of him through his nearly full face mask.

"I thought that was your doing," Solaire commented, surprised.

"It would make sense, wouldn't it? No. I wouldn't have made it out of the undead asylum without her. I had been defeated by the first damned obstacle I faced, and I could feel my life slipping away, my sanity along with it. I thought I'd just take a swig of estus, stand up, and keep going, but in my weakness the flask slipped from my hand, and I couldn't muster the strength to retrieve it. Then a section of wall shattered, and Raven walked in. I had given her the key to her cell earlier on, but I wasn't expecting her to be more of a distraction to either demon. To be honest, in that moment I thought she was hollow. She had the look and all. But she forced the flask back to my lips, and restored both my physical strength and my strength of spirit. We left the asylum together. I felt things towards her, in those moments, that I had never felt before. I didn't realize it was a little thing called love until I realized her attitude towards me in the burg." Tears at Raven's memory filled his eyes as he told his grand story, and he choked. Solaire patted him on the back.

"We'll get her back, friend," Solaire encouraged him, "I'm sure of it." Just then, both of them fell silent, as they realized that the onion knight's snoring had ceased.

"Oh-ho!" the knight announced, "Forgive me. I must have fallen asleep. I am Siegmeyer of Catarina, and to be honest, I have run flat up against a wall. Or a gate, to be precise. The damned thing just won't budge, no matter how long I wait! And oh, have I waited. So here I sit, weighing my options, so to speak." Siegmeyer hung his head against his chest again, raising his hand to his chin in thought. Oscar, for his part, felt a cold hand grip his heart, panic rising within him. He looked up, and sure enough, the way forwards was barred by three massive iron gates.

"No!" he shouted in frustration, rushing forwards. He slammed his shield against the gate, which, true to Siegmeyer's word, didn't budge an inch. Oscar screamed in frustration and despair.

"Still closed... still closed... mmm," Siegmeyer commented as he saw Oscar's fruitless effort. Oscar, in his fury, rushed forwards, his patience having hit it's limit. Solaire frantically restrained him.

"What are you doing?" Oscar demanded of Solaire, slamming backwards and knocking the knight off-balance.

"What am I doing? I should ask what you are doing. I get that you care, friend, but this is no way to act," Solaire told him with in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. Oscar's rage turned towards Solaire, and he raised his sword.

"You don't tell me what to do," he exclaimed, rushing at Solaire in anger. Solaire unslung his massive round shield from his back, and casually parried Oscar's blow before hopping away.

"What the hell is going on here?" a voice demanded, and the two looked up to see Havel, standing over them in quite an intimidating manner. Both Solaire and Oscar looked up.

"Think he's getting desperate in regards to the gate," Solaire commented, looking at Oscar.

"Well, that's easily solved." Havel walked up to the gate, and slammed his dragon tooth into it, making a large dent in a few of the bars. A second swipe deepened the dent further, and a third punched a hole through, large enough for a small person to climb through, but Oscar, with his armor on, didn't fit. He then realized that none of them would fit even without armor, as he was the lightest and smallest of his party.

"Go," Solaire told him, "We'll follow as soon as we figure out a way to get this gate open for real." Oscar quickly stripped off his armor plating, leaving only the gambeson beneath on, before wriggling through the hole. He grinned at the three behind him before running forwards. There were some strange lizard-people that raised swords to attack him, but he rushed past, using his newfound lightness without his armor to leave them behind. He headed up some stairs, and quickly came to a narrow bridge with axes swinging across it. Another man-serpent was hidden on the other side. He looked around the room for a better way up, and saw several places where the walls of the room had been chipped and cracked enough to provide handholds for climbing. He saw a landing after four bridges across the abyss, each higher than the last, which looked both reachable and safe. He slung his shield on his back, sheathed his sword, and started climbing.

The climb was tedious, and longer than he would have liked, but preferable to being slaughtered by the multitude of enemies and traps that were presented in going up the intended way. Oscar arrived at the top, and immediately saw stairs leading upwards towards a wall of shimmering, white fog. He stepped through it, and found himself on the roof of the massive fortress. Immediately, he heard a giant grunt, and a massive boulder sailed towards him. He sprinted out of the impact radius, noting that it exploded behind him. He made his way across a series of narrow bridges, bashing a balder crossbowman off the ledge and coming to a room with a massive, imposing fog gate. A man clad in full black iron armor came into the room from a staircase leading up.

"Whew," the man said, "That firebomber was a piece of work. Say, you're not hollow! Would you mind helping me with the guardian of this fortress, just yonder? Name's Tarkus, by the way, just in case you were wondering."

"Of course," Oscar said, "But I have a favor to ask in return. I have a group of friends who didn't manage to follow me in here. If you could manage to get the gate open and assist them through the fortress?" Oscar asked.

"What did you do to get in while the gate was closed? Squeeze through the gaps?" Tarkus asked.

"Something along those lines," Oscar responded, "But more of that later. Let's kill us a guardian." They stepped through the fog door together.

The guardian, as it turned out, was a massive giant clad in iron armor, wielding a massive greataxe with an empty left hand. The giant swung it's axe, and a blade of wind slammed into Oscar, knocking him backwards. Tarkus rushed forwards, slashing his greatsword at the armored titan's heels. It bounced off, but caused the giant to stumble slightly. Oscar got up, and tried the same thing, forcing at a heel with his shield. The giant stumbled further. They looked at each other, and nodded. Oscar took one heel, and Tarkus the other. Both shoved as hard as possible, and the giant toppled, falling off of the roof to it's demise far below.

"Well," Tarkus said, "That was easy. What are you going to do now?"

"It's onwards over the mountains for me," Oscar commented, "A friend of mine was carried over yonder by a gargoyle. I'm trying to make sure she's safe."

"I understand, friend. There's no greater motivator than love. I'll make sure your friends get up here safely. Good luck!" Tarkus sprinted away back down the fortress, while Oscar looked around. A tunnel that should have led under the mountains had a collapsed entrance, and was no help. However, there was a glowing golden orb floating in the air that he could have sworn wasn't there before. He reached out and tapped it, and immediately was snatched up by two bat-wing demons, and hefted into the air. As this happened, he caught his first glimpse of what was beyond the mountains. A glorious mass of golden bridges, buildings, and spires which could only belong to the great city of Anor Londo greeted him. He laughed in delight as the demons deposited him on a balcony overlooking the majority of the city.

* * *

Raven gasped in pain as the mimic spat her onto the floor. She hastily took a swig of estus before climbing to her feet, and she summoned her pyromancy flame, not caring to retrieve her Zweihander from where it had fallen just yet. She unleashed a massive stream of black flames at the chest-headed beast, and it stumbled backwards, before being blown over by the torrent. She laid her hand on it's chest, and continued to pour black flames through it. It didn't take long before the creature exploded, it's meaty chunks disintegrating into ash. From it's chest-like head, it left behind a large club which seemed to radiate evil. Raven left it where it was, having no desire to interact with such a thing. She climbed back up through the hidden fireplace hole, and continued on her way, the feeling of monotony wearing her down. It was as simple as climbing a staircase, killing a few silver knights, and descending another staircase. She crossed a bridge, and found herself in a large, open room with a silver knight archer and two giants. It felt ominous, but she decided to deal with it. The giants wouldn't be a problem, as they seemed more like statues than anything else. The silver knight was standing mid-way up a staircase on the far side of the room, too far away from herself for her black flames to be viable. If only she had Havel and his bow with her. If only she had anyone at all, it would be a huge help. Especially Oscar. She missed Oscar, despite his denial of any feelings towards her, and she couldn't turn off her attraction at will. She pushed the thought out of her mind, and began attempting to formulate a plan. As she did so, she heard a clamor outside, almost like someone banging on the door.

"Someone! Anyone! Open the door!" Wait. That was Oscar's voice. This was too good to be true. Raven rushed for the massive doors, and found a lever which seemed to control them. She pushed on it, hard, and the doors swung open. Sure enough, there was Oscar, standing alone, and completely unarmored, with a greatbow in his hands. He saw the silver knight, and immediately dropped it with an arrow to the head.

"Havel's?" Raven asked, and Oscar shook his head.

"Found it outside. Glad I didn't miss. That was my only arrow. Oh, Raven. Thank the gods. Your clothes look like they've seen better days, though." Oscar tossed the greatbow aside as Raven looked down at her clothing, and realized just how shredded it was. Massive tears meant that it revealed more skin than it covered. Raven flushed, embarrassed.

"Where's everyone else?" Raven asked, trying to deflect the conversation.

"Had to squeeze through a narrow opening. I was the only one that fit. Havel and Solaire are trying to widen it before they get through. Raven, I... I need to tell you something. Something I realized, after you got carried off..." Oscar trailed off. Then, before Raven realized what was happening, he pulled her into an embrace and kissed her on the lips. She felt desire flood through her, and she kissed him back, and before long their clothes were in a pile on the ground.

* * *

"Let's not tell the others about this," Oscar commented, pulling his gambeson back on, "Speaking of which. There are two new additions to the party, last I checked. One Siegmeyer of Catarina, as well as a black iron knight named Tarkus." Raven didn't bother putting on anything of her tattered clothes besides her loincloth. She'd go talk to the giant blacksmith shortly. He was just a room away, if she remembered right.

"Shall we head back to meet them?" Oscar asked cheerily. Raven shook her head.

"Hm? You've got something to do here yet?" Oscar asked.

"That, and... we can't leave. Not without something called a Lordvessel, guarded by one of Gwyn's knights and... Executioner Smough, who killed my predecessor. He's mine. You can take the knight," Raven explained, heading towards the giant blacksmith. She heard a hammer pinging down below, and she raced down the stairs. The giant was hunched over a tiny anvil like usual, but looked up, checking her over.

"Raven?" he asked in his soft, strained voice, "Armor, I have. Here, take." The blacksmith turned, handing her a set of armor like the ones the statue-ized giants outside wore, but fit specifically to her. It was already made, and she put it on quickly. Gods, but it was heavy. If not for Havel's ring, she felt like she would be crushed under it's weight. She tried rolling experimentally, though, and found that she could still do it. There was no helmet, but the rest of the set was already a massive amount of protection. Oscar looked her over, nodding in appreciation.

"I believe that we have a fight ahead of us," Oscar said, heading back up the stairs. Raven followed. They returned to the large hall, still occupied with two mindless, unknowing giants, and moved forwards, towards a wall of white fog.

"This is it," Raven said, and they stepped through the fog together. Raven noted Smough, standing ready. He was standing so still that she wondered if he was a statue, as well, until she saw him shift his grip on his massive hammer. Dragonslayer Ornstein, the knight of Gwyn which they also had to face, jumped down from a balcony above, and raised his spear, charging forwards. Oscar deflected Ornstein's attention while Raven rushed Smough, who swung his hammer. Raven rolled inside his reach, before coming up and slashing, hacking halfway through one of Smough's legs. He dropped to one knee, and Raven jumped, stabbing through the middle of his chest and pulling Smough the rest of the way to the ground.

"Here's a reminder that the legend never dies!" Raven said, before ramming the Zweihander through Smough's armored face. It punched through his brass armor with ease, slamming through his head and digging into the ground. Smough dissolved into smoke and flame as the Zweihander's enchantment did it's work. Ornstein looked up, startled, taking his first good look at Raven.

"The legend never... what? Raven?" Ornstein lowered his spear, and Oscar hesitated, not attacking him.

"I was here for literally fifteen minutes, and everyone knows my name," Raven chuckled, setting the Zweihander back on her shoulder.

"Arthur was quite outspoken about his most curious legacy," Ornstein said, "Welcome back! I suppose you'll be wanting the Lordvessel, then? Oh, don't worry about Smough. You had a very valid reason for that, and I never much liked him anyways. I'll show you to Lady Gwynevere and the Lordvessel. Then... I think I'll come with you two. I've gotten rather bored of this cathedral, however grandiose it may be.

Raven and Oscar followed Ornstein up a lift, and he threw wide the massive doors, revealing Lady Gwynevere, lounging on a large, pillow-ridden couch, the rays of the sun shining bright behind her.

"Two? Never in my waitings had I ever expected such. Thou hast done well to reach me. I see that you hast spared one of my guards. No matter. Come hither, children." Ornstein remained behind and observed as Oscar and Raven moved towards Gwynevere, kneeling before her.

"I bequeath thee with the Lordvessel, and beseech thee: succeed Lord Gwyn, and link the first flame, so that this age of fire may be preserved. Go with my blessing, children." The Lordvessel, which turned out to be a massive bowl, appeared in a shimmering light in front of them. Raven picked it up, and it dissolved once again, being absorbed into her. She put a hand to her breast, feeling at the darksign which it had been absorbed into. There was a slight difference in feeling, a sort of ecstasy.

"So, the long trek back?" she asked Ornstein, who shook his head, gesturing to the bonfire just outside of Gwynevere's chamber.

"The Lordvessel is actually used for journeys. Specifically, it gives the power to move from one bonfire to any other in Lordran. Raven, since you have the Lordvessel's power, you're going to be the one directing the journey. Just reach out and touch the coiled sword, and the two of us will be drawn with you wherever you choose to go," Ornstein explained. Raven put her hand on the hilt of the coiled sword sticking up from the bonfire, and immediately felt a network of lit bonfires to choose from. She could feel one in firelink shrine, one in the undead parish, one in the burg, an additional one between the two, and the one at the other end of Anor Londo as well as this one. No others had been lit.

"Where were Solaire and Havel when you got separated?" Raven asked Oscar.

"The undead parish, right next to Sen's Fortress. The gate was what got us separated. I managed to squeeze through. They couldn't. So, head to that bonfire." Raven chose a fire, and immediately felt as if she were bathed in not just the restful warmth of a bonfire, but the heat of a more malicious flame. As soon as it began, it ended, however, and the three found themselves sitting at a bonfire in a completely new location. Raven stood up, looking around. Sure enough across a bridge, there was a crowd of people waiting at a gate, presumably for Oscar's return. Oscar and Raven jogged across the bridge, Ornstein in tow, and startled the party from behind.

"Oh-ho!" A man who could only be the Siegmeyer Oscar had mentioned, exclaimed. Solaire and Havel turned, and looked at the two in confusion.

"You went that way... but you came out over there, with Raven, and..." Solaire was utterly lost, trying to figure out how the three of them had come from the opposite direction.

"Lordvessel," Raven replied cryptically with a wink.

AN: All right! Now that I've gotten Anor Londo out of the way and managed to introduce the Lordvessel and Ornstein, we can finally start the bulk of the story. New, never-before seen areas including places that are actually OUTSIDE of Lordran are soon to come. Stay tuned for updates every Monday! (Hopefully). As always, leave a review of what you liked, didn't like, and any predictions or questions you might have about the story. Also, remember to refer back to this point for the eventual alternate ending, because this chapter is going to be the branch point for that.


	6. Chapter 6: Displacement

AN: And here... we... go. I'm not even taking a one-day break to wait for reviews. Also, sorry if some of you suddenly lost track of where the story went because I bumped the rating up to M. I'm afraid it was either that, or change a detail I consider to be very important to the story. If I get enough reviews saying that it was vague enough to keep a T rating, I'll change it back, but I'm going to follow the site guidelines above all else. As always, reviews are desperately wanted, just... don't give me crap about moving up Lautrec's quest schedule. Without further adieu, I'm jumping into the main story.

Chapter Six: Displacement

The chaos flame of Raven's Zweihander, as it turned out, was excellent at melting through the cast-iron gates of Sen's Fortress. In moments, she had widened the small hole, only large enough for herself and Oscar to fit through whilst unarmored into a massive gap in the gate which even Havel, in his massively bulky armor, could easily slip through. Tarkus stepped out of the gloom of the fortress.

"Change of plans, I'm guessing?" Tarkus asked, looking pointedly at Oscar, who nodded.

"That's correct. We're going to ring the second Bell of Awakening. We won't ever have need to venture through this mess again. We have the Lordvessel," Oscar replied. Oscar was back in his normal plate armor, and Raven was getting used to her own set of bulky brass armor.

"I was thinking we'd go back to Firelink Shrine and see if we can squeeze any more information out of that crestfallen warrior," Raven offered, and the entire group, now numbering a shocking six, excluding herself, nodded. They all gathered around the bonfire, and Raven placed her hand on the coiled sword hilt, preparing to warp.

"We have a problem," Raven announced, looking up.

"What's wrong?" Ornstein asked, "I can guarantee you that the Lordvessel can be used indefinitely. It doesn't get used up after one warp."

"The power is still there," Raven clarified, "but there's something... off, about the Firelink bonfire. It's almost like it's resisting us warping there."

"I can't think of any reason for it," Ornstein replied, "Go ahead and try to break through the resistance. It should be fine." Raven nodded, and pulled the group towards the Firelink bonfire. Suddenly, she felt a horrible ripping sensation along with the burning that she had felt before, and instinctively grabbed Oscar, the closest person next to her. In that moment, she felt an immense strain, and the world went black.

That was odd. Raven knew what it felt like to die. This wasn't it. Death was just feeling the pain of whatever killed you, and immediately finding yourself back at one of many life-force providing bonfires. This was a sensation she hadn't experienced since before she became undead. This almost felt like normal sleep. Suddenly, the world snapped back into focus.

"Raven!" Oscar was leaning over her, shouting in concern.

"What?" Raven asked, sitting up.

"Oh, thank goodness. I thought that you were dead, and that your darksign had somehow... failed. There's just no way to tell. Well, that's one problem that took care of itself. Next question: where are we?" Raven hesitated, taking a look around. This was... this was impossible. The green, grassy field, with a high wall in the distance, marking the edge of an all-too familiar city.

"How did we wind up here?" Raven wondered aloud, taking in scenery that she had been sure she would never see again.

"I'll ask again where exactly here is," Oscar reminded her, nudging.

"This isn't even Lordran. We're just outside the capital of Zena!" Raven exclaimed.

"That's impossible. The curse of the undead binds us to Lordran once we reach it," Oscar commented, "And there doesn't seem to be a bonfire anywhere NEAR here. Wait. Where is everyone else?" Both of them had a brief moment of panic as they realized that they were once again alone with each other.

"Well, there's only one thing to do," Raven said.

"Oh?" Oscar looked at her.

"Head into town, of course. We're both in human form, so we won't be recognized, although it might be obvious that I've been here before. I actually might be recognized, in which case we're in a whole different mess. But I don't see any other options, do you?"

"No," Oscar answered, "I don't." They started the long trek towards the city in the distance.

* * *

Havel felt the burning of scorching flames briefly, along with a sense of nausea, before finding himself in an arid plain. There were some shrubs and the like around, but nothing in the way of true foliage. In the distance, he noted a large city, built out of sandstone. He had no clue where this was, despite having traveled all over Lordran.

"Oh..." A muffled grunt, characteristic of the Onion Knight Siegmeyer, sounded behind him, and he turned around. Sure enough, Siegmeyer was there, swaying as though dizzy, but no one else was in sight.

"This isn't Firelink," Havel announced, "Do you have any idea where we are?" Siegmeyer immediately seemed to snap out of his daze, and he looked around.

"Why, of course! We're about half a day's journey away from Catarina! Oh, that's a glorious sight that I never thought I'd see again. Oh! I may just see little Lin again!" The phrase sparked something in Havel's memory. Little Lin. Then he had it. A catarinan girl, noteable for being the only human he had ever observed to come and visit a family member in Lordran before returning to the outside world. He remembered having feelings for her, and she had flirted and played with him. But that was before he had been imprisoned. Yes, an undead might survive that long, but his human family certainly wouldn't. And, despite Lordran's flow of time being convoluted, he doubted it was that mangled. Still, he had to ask.

"Your daughter's full name wouldn't happen to be Sieglinde, would it?" Havel asked in a tone that hid his interest, seeming to just be making small talk.

"It is! How on earth did you guess?" Siegmeyer asked. Havel felt a thrill rise in him.

"I think I met her, once, whilst she was visiting you in Lordran," Havel explained.

"That' interesting," Siegmeyer replied, "She did come to Lordran on one occasion, but I made her leave the instant I realized she was there. Lordran is no place for a normal human. I'm surprised you saw her during that brief time she was there." Havel debated telling Siegmeyer about his own crush on the Onion Knight's daughter, but decided against it for now.

"Shall we give your homeland a visit?" Havel asked.

* * *

Tarkus pulled off his helmet, worrying that the wave of nausea that had rolled over him as they warped would result in a loss of his stomach's contents. The nausea passed, however, and Tarkus replaced his helmet. Then he noticed the golden-armored figure next to him, looking at him curiously.

"What is this trickery?" the man said, drawing his twin shotels, and glaring daggers at Tarkus. He noticed the firelink bonfire had gone dark. Tarkus raised his shield quickly, but the shotel's curve snapped around the shield, scratching his armor. He responded with a quick shield bash, throwing the golden knight off-balance. Tarkus followed up with a quick chop with his massive greatsword. The golden knight recovered his balance just in time to produce a parrying dagger and deflect the blow. A quick stab with the curved shotel found a gap in Tarkus' armor, and he gasped in pain, dropping to one knee as the golden knight yanked his shotel out of Tarkus' chest. Tarkus dropped to the ground, trying to find the strength to rise.

"Hmph. And here they told me that an extinguished bonfire can't be warped too. This certainly throws a wrench in my plans. Oh, well. It's nothing I can't deal with," the golden knight said idly, pulling out a homeward bone. Tarkus roared in rage, refusing to let his opponent escape, and stabbed at the golden knight through the chest, shoving his greatsword further in as the knight gasped, dropping the homeward bone.

"Why, you little... curses! How could I..." the golden armored knight faded into smoke and mist on his death, leaving behind a few interesting items. First and foremost was a golden ring, seeming to be linked to the goddess Fina. Tarkus had no interest in such, so he placed it in his satchel rather than putting it on. Second was a group of humanity, which Tarkus also decided to save for later. And lastly... Tarkus growled. A firekeeper's soul, seeming to resonate with the nearby bonfire. What crimes had this monster committed? Suddenly, Tarkus heard applause.

"I must thank you," a depressed voice announced from behind, "I think that's the best show I've seen in ages." Tarkus whirled in fury, not seeing his companions.

"Why didn't you do anything?" he demanded, charging the source of the voice, a warrior in chain mail armor that could only be the crestfallen warrior that Raven had mentioned before she initiated the warp. A growing suspicion in Tarkus' mind told him that the gold-armored knight that he had just killed was responsible for whatever had gone wrong. It was beyond suspicion, without doubt, in his mind that it had. Now he was thinking about what he was going to do about it, and it started with getting a straight answer from this man, however much intimidation was necessary.

* * *

Solaire materialized on a mountain, with a decidedly wonderful view of the sun. He had felt something decidedly strange with that warp, however. It wasn't at all what Raven had told him it would be. On top of that, this mountain was not Firelink shrine. He had been there, somewhat recently, and unless he had been thrown for a loop by Lordran's convoluted time, to a time before the shrine had been constructed, he was in a place that was completely... wait. He recognized this. The mountain view, overlooking a grand view of the sun, and a glorious, silver city with spires rising high into the air, wide walls, and luxurious palaces. This was his homeland, Astora.

"This isn't exactly what I had expected when I heard you all talking about Firelink Shrine," Ornstein's voice announced from behind Solaire.

"It's not. Something went wrong. You see that city down there?" Solaire pointed at the grand capital of Astora as Ornstein stepped up beside him.

"Yes. It's almost like a silver Anor Londo," Ornstein observed.

"That's the capital of Astora," Solaire told the Dragonslayer, and Ornstein gasped audibly.

"Oh, no. Wait. The others. They aren't here. Oh, this is bad. This is so, very bad," Ornstein's body language exuded barely contained panic, despite his facial expression being hidden by his lion-shaped mask.

"What's happened? Other than the fact that we're in the wrong spot?"

"If we wound up here, it means that the binding magic of Lordran has been shattered, and all of the horrors that it contained... well, they've been dispersed across the world just as we have, unleashed on an unsuspecting population of humans. If we don't reign in those monsters quickly, there won't even be anyone sane left to worry about the first flame fading," Ornstein said, even his voice conveying horror.

"That means we've got to get down there, protect the city!" Solaire exclaimed, not understanding the bit about the first flame. He rushed towards the edge of the mountaintop, towards Astora, before Ornstein restrained him.

"Are you a fool? I'm a Knight of Gwyn! They'll peg me as undead in an instant, armor or no. Our only hope is to find our way back to Lordran, and rekindle the first flame. That should yank all of these creatures back to Lordran. We'll give our lives for the rest of the world. Now the matter is actually finding a way back..." Solaire looked at Ornstein, frowning in confusion.

"What's all this about the first flame? And why do we have to die permanently in order to kindle it?" Solaire demanded, and Ornstein shook his head.

"I'll explain on the way. What's the best way back to Lordran from here?" Solaire thought for a moment, before he remembered that Astora was his homeland. He knew the exact path with which he had been shipped off to the undead asylum, and from there he could easily navigate back to Lordran.

* * *

"Aye, siwmae," a guard called from atop the walls of Zena, "and a good day to you. What brings you to the gates of our city?" Oscar took a breath to answer, but Raven held up a hand.

"There's a certain culture, here. Let me do the talking," she told him in a low voice.

"Aye, siwmae," Raven called back up, keeping her tone just as jolly as the guards, "and a good day to you. We're, well, servants, of sorts. You see, we enjoy seeing people happy, so we help them out. We wish for a place to rest, before we continue on our way. And who knows? Maybe we can help some of you out, while we stay."

"I see. Go on in. I'm afraid I can't advise an inn, though. I abide here, and so I have little experience with them. But I wish you luck." Some chatter among the guards later, the portcullis was raised, and Raven and Oscar stepped into the city. As soon as they had entered, they were overwhelmed with cheery calls of "aye simwae," both to them and exchanged between the numerous citizens. Cheery exchanges occurred between citizens, and Raven knew from experience that this was a unique land in which casual, friendly conversations could spring up between complete strangers. Raven kept a smile on her face, and answered every greeting just as cheerily as it was given. Oscar remained silent behind her, watching her interactions with interest. Raven knew exactly where she was going, and made a beeline towards an inn that she remembered as being especially friendly towards travelers. She moved quickly, but not so quickly as to be rude to anyone who wanted to greet her.

"Where are we going?" Oscar asked in a somewhat darker tone than was strictly acceptable for the society, and Raven responded quickly with her cheery mask.

"Why so down?" she began, "It's a positively wonderful day. And I may add, in answer to your question, that our destination just so happens to be an inn I remember from my previous stay here. I found it quite nice." Oscar fell silent again, and Raven hurried on, feeling her instincts adjust her very body language to exude joy and contentment. Soon, they arrived at a large building, a homely-looking mix of wood and cobblestone.

"And this is our destination," Raven announced, opening the door and stepping in. She heard merriment from the bar near the entryway, and a bit of her smile became real as she stepped up to the bar, which also served to rent rooms from the inn upstairs.

"Aye, siwmae," Raven announced joyfully, getting the bartender's attention, and he turned around.

"And a good day to you," the bartender replied, finishing the statement. "So, what can I get for you?"

"We'd like to rent a room," Raven replied, "and a pair of drinks. Something strong, if you will." This was completely in conflict with the character she had used at the inn previously, and she hoped it was enough to prevent the barkeep from connecting the dots between the 'two' women from Carim that he had interacted with.

"Of course," the barkeeper smiled, filling two mugs and handing them across the counter, "just say the word when you want to call it a night." Raven passed one to Oscar, and they chose a table to take a seat.

"So, what's the real plan here?" Oscar asked in a whisper, not touching his mug. Raven took a swig from her own, and winced. It left an awful burning feeling in her throat as she swallowed, but she quickly replaced her expression of pain with her usual, grinning mask. The alcohol created a warm radiance within her, and her smile widened.

"I don't really have one," Raven replied, "but it's nice to be back here. I figured we'd stay a while. I mean, there isn't any harm in it. The curse isn't contagious or anything. Try the drink. It actually isn't that bad." Oscar hesitantly took a sip, and swallowed. He grinned.

"I had forgotten what good drink was like. That's some fine brandy," Oscar said, taking a heavy pull from his mug. Raven took another swig of her own drink, and as they talked, she realized that her mug had been emptied. She never intended to go back for seconds, much less thirds, but it happened before she even realized it.

* * *

"Halt! Who goes there?" Onion-armored guards, stationed at the top of Catarina's sandstone-brick walls, seemed significantly less jubilant than the descriptors Havel had heard from others of the Catarinans. Havel's mind went blank, and he panicked. He obviously couldn't give his real name, or he would be laughed at. Or, worse, they might actually believe him, shipping him off to the Undead Asylum, from which he had no guarantee that he could manage to escape. Siegmeyer quickly came to his rescue.

"I'm Siegmeyer of Catarina," he announced, "I'm returning from a mission to Lordran to find this man, Arch-Bishop Havel the Rock." The guards looked at each other with surprised faces, before rapidly drawing bows.

"Siegmeyer of Catarina was declared dead 15 years ago!" one guard shouted, drawing back his bowstring.

"Check your reports again, good sirs. I was declared UNdead, and it was all a ruse, an excuse to get me to Lordran for the purpose of my mission."

"And why should we believe you? How are we supposed to know that this is actually Havel, and not some accomplice you hired to strut around in the bishop's armor?" another guard demanded.

"And where exactly would Havel's armor have been resting? If this isn't the man himself, which I will firmly defend that it is, it must have been taken off his corpse, and I must ask you how you think I found it without completing my mission anyways?" Siegmeyer announced, and Havel stepped up to the gate.

"If you don't open up," he shouted, butting into the conversation, "I'll bash the doors down and squish the lot of you to a pulp! I was brought here for a purpose, and I'll see it fulfilled. I'm certainly not about to allow some petty gate guards to stand in my way."

"And what might that purpose be?" the guards demanded, and Havel dropped his club from his shoulder, preparing to smash through the gates.

"All right, all right! We'll let you in! Just... don't go squishing any citizens, or you'll answer to a power higher than us," a guard conceded, signaling for the gates to be opened. A quick bustle on the walls saw the massive, cast-iron doors swing open, and Havel stepped into the city, not even caring to check if Siegmeyer was keeping up.

"Oh-ho! Well done, friend. I recon more than one of them lost control of their bladders, there," Siegmeyer congratulated, "And it's certainly miles better than what I would have done." Havel chuckled.

"Now, I actually did want to come here for a reason," Havel told him, when they had had their laughs. "I need a map of the area. Our main goal is finding Raven. She has the Lordvessel, and probably the best idea of what went on. Now, I think I've found a pattern here. There were 7 of us, and it felt like Tarkus didn't get dragged along. That makes 6. There's only two of us. Now, I'm guessing that we were split into three groups of two. It's either going to be Solaire and Oscar in one, and Raven and Ornstein in the other, or Raven and Oscar in one, and Solaire and Ornstein in the other. I'm saying that because Raven has very little connection to Solaire, so a pairing of Raven and Solaire is not very likely, and Oscar doesn't really have a connection to Ornstein either. So, if another pattern I've noticed holds true, the groups will be placed where someone has been before. I guaruntee you that Solaire is in Astora, unless this was just chance. The problem is Raven. We have no idea where she's been. Carim, based on her hair, but other than that, it's a shot in the dark."

"Mmm," Siegmeyer hummed in thought, "That's a most curious problem. If Raven isn't in Carim, and isn't in Astora with Oscar- neither of which we can disprove, by the way... she must be in Zena. You see, those people are incredibly fond of trinkets, and she was wearing an interesting-looking ring that didn't seem to have any particular purpose, during the brief time I saw her, as well as a stone-plated ring. The only place she could have gotten something like that is in Zena, and she obviously has personal ties to it if she kept a souvenir."

"Bravo, friend!" Havel exclaimed, "Now to figure out what groupings, and which of the three spots she wound up in. I need a map..."

* * *

"I - I don't know ANYTHING about the Lordvessel! I've never laid eyes on the thing!" the knight exclaimed, "Maybe you can get answers from the Witch of Izalith, down below? She's the only one about whom I haven't had a confirmation of insanity. You'll have to go through the Lower Undead Burg and the Depths in order to reach Blighttown."

"How do I get there," Tarkus demanded, lowering his voice to a barest, menacing whisper, and he could have sworn the warrior would have soiled his pants, had he not been undead.

"I-i-it's accessible by a basement. Under one of the bridge towers between the Burg and the Parish. Please! I have a key! Here, take it! Take it! Just don't hurt me..." Tarkus accepted the key.

"There's just one more thing," Tarkus said, his deep voice partially muffled by his helm to create the perfect effect he wanted.

"What is it? Please..."

"You're coming with me," he told the warrior, who recoiled.

"No, I..." he trailed off as Tarkus hefted his massive greatsword.

"Oh, fine. It's better dying later than dying now, I suppose. Let's go." Tarkus hauled the warrior up by the back of his mail shirt, dragging him along.

"My name's Andrew, by the way," the warrior told Tarkus.

"I don't care," Tarkus replied. They started up the stairs to the Undead Burg.

AN: There wasn't a whole lot of action in this one, but it's still a huge moment. Up next: Tarkus and Andrew vs. The Capra Demon, and Raven and Oscar vs. Pinwheel (in Zena, too! That'll be interesting). Meanwhile, Havel and Siegmeyer attempt to defend Catarina against a flood of Darkwraiths. Stay tuned!


	7. Chapter 7: Battles Lost

AN: Holy shit, it's been over a month. I'm so sorry, everyone. This chapter will just be about Raven, but the Tarkus chapter should be out by Wednesday. I'm really trying to play catch-up here.

Chapter Seven: Battles Lost

Raven awoke to a massive, throbbing headache. After a moment, she realized that she was curled naked next to Oscar in bed, and her cheeks flushed. She promised herself that she would never again get herself drunk. Raven extricated herself from Oscar's sleepy embrace, and he mumbled indistinctly before rolling over, falling back asleep. A quick assessment of the room allowed Raven to locate her clothes, but first she was worried about this awful headache. She found her satchel in the pile of clothes, and pulled out an Estus Flask, taking a swig. She wasn't prepared for the awful, reviling taste. It seemed to burn her mouth and throat horribly, worse than even the three mugs of brandy she had had last night, almost like she was drinking liquid fire. Raven breathed heavily, and the sensation faded quickly, but... what the hell? It hadn't had any healing effect. Raven felt her heart racing. Wait, a heartbeat? And she had actually gotten _drunk_ last night. In a trancelike state, she raised a hand to her bare chest, where her darksign should have appeared on her left breast. It wasn't there.

In that surreal moment, Raven laughed, and immediately regretted it. Her headache immediately magnified, and she cringed, dropping to her knees and putting her head between them. She felt like begging someone to kill her, before she realized that, without a darksign, she wouldn't be able to come back to life. She shakily got up, putting her gambeson back on and sorting the armor, but not putting it on. On the other end of the room, Oscar groaned.

"Raven, what... Oh, gods. I had forgotten that strong drink has a nasty kick the next day. Wait, how the hell did we-" Oscar abruptly came to the same realization that Raven had, feeling at his chest and noticing that his darksign was gone. Seeing him standing there, in innocence, naked, rekindled the desire that she had felt in Anor Londo, and again last night. It was all she could do not to tackle him back onto the bed and tear off her clothes not a minute after she had gotten into them. A few discreet deep breaths calmed her, giving Oscar the chance to put on his own gambeson and stack his own armor, removing her temptation. Raven couldn't believe herself. It was far too soon to say that she really loved him, or even really had any lasting feelings for him. It could be her instincts kicking in, trying to create a bond with the first person she met who might be willing to help her, in any way that she could. Raven chased the thoughts away.

"Well, now there's no cause to return to Lordran, is there? I'm pretty sure that my undead mission is devoid if I'm suddenly not undead, and as for you..." there was a question in the end of Oscar's statement.

"What, the legacy of the Father of Giants? To hell with that," Raven said, choosing her words carefully so as not to drive Oscar away with the newfound guilt she had developed at their sexual encounters.

"I want to make a life here, or... better in a different city where we don't have to dance around the culture. Astora, or Catarina, maybe? Perhaps we'll go to Vinheim, or the Great Swamp?" Raven threw out a few suggestions.

"I think that Astora would be wonderful. Amazing city, that," Oscar said with pride.

"I know. I've been there," Raven told him, and he raised his eyebrows in shock.

"Just how many places have you been?" Oscar demanded, "Here, Carim where you were born, now you mention Astora..."

"All across those three, and that's about it, excluding Lordran. I'll tell you all about my past while we're on the road. Just a warning, I've never made an honest living in my life. I still have my old tricks, ingrained well enough to perform them while drunk, apparently. I think I robbed everyone in that common area blind. Not every cent they had, mind you, only a few coins from each person. But more than enough to buy two horses, a donkey for carrying baggage, supplies, and a map," Raven told him quietly.

"Ok. Just promise me one thing," Oscar told her, looking her in the eye, "Don't even think about stealing a single copper once we've settled down."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Raven responded, "I only ever stole because I had to. If I have a chance to make a solid living, I can promise I'll go straight right away." Oscar smiled, and went to open the door. He immediately flinched from the bright light from the windows in the hallway, shutting it and ducking behind the door again. Raven had to admit, it had been painful even from where she stood.

"Ugh, more of the teeth of a strong drink. This'll be unpleasant for a while. Well, might as well brace ourselves and push through it. We should be fine a few hours from now."

Oscar's word was true. Raven talked to the innkeeper again, saying that they would be back for a few belongings they had left in their room and asking him to please not give it to someone else. As they shopped for supplies throughout the city, Raven saw the effects lessening, until as she parted with the final coin that they would need to spend in the city, it disappeared entirely. By the time they had gotten back to the inn, Oscar had perked up, as well. Raven ran inside to grab their armor, and they were on their way. They hadn't made it out of sight of the inn when the city alarm bells started tolling. Raven hurriedly slid her armor over her gambeson, and Oscar did the same. They rushed to the sound of the clamor.

"Aye, siwmae," a city guard announced, "A good day to you, but I'm afraid this isn't the time. The city is being assaulted by hordes of skeletons, led by some sort of three-headed monster. Unless you care to help-" the guard didn't even finish his sentence before Raven snapped into motion, rushing for the city walls, mounted on her newly purchased horse. On the wall, archers were going strong, blowing through skeletons like they were nothing. The wall was only about ten feet high, and some giant skeletons were looming in the distance, the archers desperately trying to take them down. Raven tied her horse off, dismounting and rushing to the top of the wall, Oscar close behind her the entire way.

"They won't die!" archers shouted, as the waves and waves of skeletons they mowed down just got back up. Raven rushed to the top of the wall, offering her help.

"Does anyone have a greatbow?" Raven shouted over the clamor. Someone immediately produced a greatbow and a massive quiver of at least 20 arrows. Perfect. Raven planted the one end right on the edge of the wall, took aim, and fired. A skeleton's head exploded, and it didn't reform. Raven concentrated her fire on the giant skeletons, dropping three of them before they reached the wall. Eventually, though, she ran out of arrows.

"Oh, screw it," she said to herself, casting worry of dying aside as she leapt off the wall and into the fray, raising her Zweihander. Skeletons immediately jumped at her from all directions, but a large, fiery arc of Zweihander ripped them all apart. More skeletons were met by more swipes, and Raven waded through the mass of skeletons, pushing for their leader, who was indeed a 3-headed, six-armed, monster that seemed to be casting necromantic spells and... what in Gwyn's name? It was creating _copies_ of itself. Raven's distraction was punished severely as a skeleton kicked her in the chest, causing her to stumble backwards, tripping and falling over the bones of a few defeated skeletons, landing prone on the ground. The skeleton raised it's scimitar, preparing to end her newfound human existence, but in a moment, Oscar was there, lopping off the skeleton's head and stomping on it, killing the monster permanently. He extended a hand down to her, and she pulled herself up.

"Thanks," Raven told him, picking up her Zweihander yet again. Damn, she needed to find a way to keep a better grip on the thing. It seemed she dropped it every time she took a hit.

"It's no problem. Everyone needs someone watching their backs," Oscar replied, "And Zena finally has something to be joyous about: The fact that we're here to watch theirs. Now, let's go kill us a necromancer." With determination and resolve, they rushed through the mass of skeletons, creating a path of destruction. Behind them, Raven noted that other warriors of Zena had followed their lead, jumping from the wall and hacking through skeletons. Raven and Oscar were virtually unopposed as they waded through the mass of skeletons; none of them were much of a threat. The same couldn't be said about the monster. Or, well, monsters. Raven and Oscar broke through the line of skeletons, coming onto an open field, and coming face-to-face with a total of eight 3-headed necromancers. Each head wore a distinct mask... one of them was identical to Arthur's mask. That was Raven's cue. In a single stroke, she sliced one of the things that must be Pinwheel in half.

"That was easy. Wait... why are the skeletons still alive?" Oscar was struck in the chest by a large fireball, which exploded and knocked him to the ground. The other Pinwheels doubled. There were now 14 enemies to face, and Raven had to kill them all. Multiple pinwheels waved all of their arms, far too many for any natural creature to have, in the air, and fireballs flew everywhere. Raven dodged through a few of them, but there were just too many. One bolt of flame caught her in the shoulder, knocking her off balance and costing her a second explosive charge to the chest. It hit hard, blowing her backwards. Raven rolled to her feet quickly, but saw that Oscar was struggling to rise as skeleton after skeleton jumped at him, each one getting closer to connecting with a lethal strike. Raven knew that he didn't have long, and turned away from the pinwheels, rushing to Oscar's side and smashing a skeleton, giving him time to get to his feet.

"We need a plan!" Oscar exclaimed, blocking another firebolt from Pinwheel, "because I'm terrible at multitasking!" Raven spun to chop a skeleton's skull in half, and glanced backwards towards the wall, where hundreds of warriors had now entered the fray. They were pinned against the walls, however, by the hordes of skeletons, and seemed to be barely holding their own. She and Oscar were hardly faring better, Raven realized with a start, as Oscar pivoted to kill another skeleton, leaving Raven exposed to another fireball, which she rolled under. She just so happened to roll through a skeleton, though, and an explosion of bones behind her distracted her just long enough for another bolt of flame to hit her in the back, knocking her to the ground again. To her credit, she kept hold of the Zweihander, for once. Unfortunately, said Zweihander dug point-down into the soft dirt, and cut partway into a rock just beneath it. She used it to pull herself to her feet quickly, but it was stuck fast, and would take far too long to pull free. It would be useless for the rest of the fight.

"Well, that leaves fighting fire with fire, then," Raven muttered, flames bursting from both of her hands. She concentrated them together, creating a yellow-black ball of flames which she flung at a pinwheel. It exploded violently, and Oscar rushed to her side, still defending himself from skeletons.

"Cover me," she told him, before charging towards another pinwheel. She created a wall of black flames in front of her which served as a large shield, effortlessly deflecting a fireball that the pinwheel summoned. Then, she shoved her other hand forwards, and the wall exploded into a massive gout, reducing the pinwheel to ash. Twelve remained. Oscar dispatched another skeleton which jumped at her as she focused, blocking three more fireballs. Raven analyzed the way that the fireballs deflected off the shield, and adjusted it's shape accordingly. The next fiery charge that was flung was mirrored perfectly back at it's caster, who howled in pain before dissolving. Raven flung the wall at another pinwheel, who also was destroyed. That left ten. Suddenly, Raven felt dizzy, stumbling backwards. For the second time in as many days, the world faded to darkness.

* * *

Raven saw a blinding white light, and immediately winced away again. The light shrank into a blur.

"Oh, thank goodness," an unfamiliar voice announced, "she's coming to." Then Oscar's familiar, endearing, concerned tone was audible.

"Raven? Raven!" The world came into focus, and Raven saw Oscar, with his chiseled face and dirty blonde hair, leaning over her. She was in a bright, torch-lit room. She sat up suddenly and was instantly hit by a wave of nausea, groaning and putting a hand to her temple.

"Oh... that wasn't a good idea," Raven commented as she leaned back onto the bed. It was a comfortable bed. She could live with that. Wait... why was she here? Raven started to panic, trying not to move but at the same time struggling to identify her surroundings.

"Raven, calm down. You're safe. For now, at least," Oscar told her, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She felt her heart racing, still an unfamiliar sensation.

"Where am I?" Raven demanded, fear filling her voice, "How- how did I get here?"

"Raven, what's the last thing you remember?" the unfamiliar man was surprisingly calm. Too calm. Why was he so calm? Raven started to pull herself out of the bed, but Oscar pinned her down.

"It's all right, Raven," he told her, even as her instincts screamed at her that it wasn't all right. There was nothing right about this situation. "Can you answer his question?"

"The last thing I remember..." Raven gasped and tried to sit up again, but Oscar was still pinning her down. He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

"We were fighting Pinwheel... I suddenly felt dizzy, and then I passed out. Why..." Raven trailed off as the unknown man began to laugh. He barely managed to force words out between his laughter.

"Why?... You were stupid enough to use BLACK PYROMANCY, and you have the guts to ask WHY you passed out? Girl, you're lucky you're not DEAD. How could you be so stupid? I mean... BLACK PYROMANCY?" Raven's eyes went wide.

"I've never had issues before..." Raven trailed off. That wasn't an accurate criteria. She hadn't had issues before because she quite literally _had_ been dead. Now she was human again, and her actions had consequences. Clearly, the same thing had just gone through Oscar's mind, as he bit his tongue.

"On top of all of that, you had the stupidity to use a sword infused with a chaos flame? Who do you think you are, an undead who can just crush a humanity sprite and replenish your supply? I'm sorry, that's terribly rude of me..." A look of panic crossed both of their faces.

"Holy shit... you two... showing up in town the day before this nightmare... straight out of Lordran... this on top of it all... you are undead, aren't you? But... then this wouldn't happen. You would take a swig of your estus flask and keep going. So how is this possible?"

"It's not," Oscar replied, "A botched bonfire warp plopped us in the field outside of Zena yesterday. We found out that we were missing our darksigns this morning. We were just about to leave when this nightmare showed up."

"I knew it!" the man exclaimed, "I knew this had something to do with you! Now, the question is, what are we going to do about it? Well, what are _you_ going to do about it? I'm not much of a fighter, myself." Raven knew that that meant she had to move. She gritted her teeth against the wave of nausea, and sat up, thankful that Oscar wasn't pinning her down anymore. Very quickly, she wished that he had, as she stumbled and fell, leaning on him for balance.

"Are you sure you should be up and about?" Oscar asked, looking concerned. Raven realized that she was back in just her gambeson, and she was grateful. She didn't trust herself trying to bear more than her own weight.

"I probably shouldn't be," Raven commented, "but... we don't really have a choice, do we. Now, I need a weapon. I assume the Zweihander is still stuck out there in that battlefield?"

"Unfortunately, it is, right along with a majority of your armor. I don't see much here, besides my sword, which I don't think you can use. It's imbued with divine energy, and it might reject you," Oscar replied, "So, do you know of anywhere you could get something nearby?"

"I'd need a map to figure it out. I have a resource cache here in the city. It's pretty much depleted, but it's where I stashed my katana when I got hit with the curse. If it's nearby, I can grab it. Otherwise, the best option is trying to snatch a sword off of one of the skeletons outside the walls," Raven explained.

"Raven," Oscar began, "the skeletons aren't outside the walls. They're on the streets." Raven jumped backwards at the news, and instantly regretted it, as she lost Oscar's support and nearly fell over, reeling from another wave of nausea. Oscar managed to catch her, but it was bad enough that she was glad her stomach was empty.

"Raven, you're in no condition to fight," Oscar said sternly, "I don't see how you can stand up to those skeletons if you can't even, well, stand."

"In that regard, I may be able to help," the unknown man, who seemed to be a physician, announced, "I have some herbs that will temporarily restore your physical abilities, but they're no miracle cure. Your dizziness and nausea will be back with a vengeance when they wear off."

"It's better than nothing," Raven told him, "I'll take it." The physician hurried about, grabbing herbs and making a tea.

"Oscar, find a map," Raven told him, sitting down on the bed and breathing calmly to settle her stomach and spinning head. Oscar began rummaging through things, and he moved out of sight. Just then, the physician came over, holding a cup.

"Here. It'll help with the dizziness and nausea, but only for about four hours. After that, though, it'll be even worse than it is now. Good luck," he said, as Raven drank the tea down in one gulp, before retching. Oh, gods, it tasted _awful_. But it did the job. Raven stood up, and instantly found that she was able to balance on her own. Her stomach was no longer churning. She jumped experimentally, and landed on her feet instead of flat on her back, like she would have a minute earlier.

"A-ha! I have it!" Oscar emerged from the back room with a map of the city. Their location was marked with a red dot. Raven looked at it for a second, and nodded.

"Ok. The cache is close enough. Only a few buildings away, actually. We can make it. Shall we?" Raven walked to the door, and Oscar picked up his sword and shield after putting on his helmet.

"Stay behind me," Oscar told her before opening the door. Immediately, his shield became useful as a skeleton leapt at them. Oscar chopped its head off. They were immediately surrounded by four more skeletons upon stepping out of the building. Raven noted that it was dusk - not a good sign, for the sake of their own survival.

"To hell with this," Raven muttered, jumping between two skeletons and breaking into a run towards her cache. Oscar shouted after her, but she was already too far away. Multiple skeletons jumped and slashed at her, but she nimbly dodged and rolled through the crowd until she reached a partially burned down building with boarded-up windows. This was it. Raven pulled the door open, and snatched her katana from a hidden slot inside of it, spinning to decapitate a skeleton just before it impaled her. Now it was time to help Oscar. Raven saw that he had managed to kill one of the four skeletons assaulting him, but he was barely holding out against the other three, hiding behind his shield to avoid a flurry of quick slashes and thrusts. Raven, now armed, rushed back through the skeletons, this time breaking them apart as they attacked her, rather than simply dodging. She reached Oscar in a matter of seconds, cutting through one of the skeletons' skulls expertly, and separating it in two. Oscar took the brief opening as an opportunity to lop a second skull in half, and Raven deflected a scimitar strike from the third before slashing through its skull as well.

"I don't understand why you try this shit," Oscar scolded her, "especially now that death will be..." Oscar trailed off as he saw the bones that she had left between the cache and where Raven was. She gasped herself when she realized just how many skeletons she had killed.

"You couldn't have accomplished that even with the Zweihander. We could have gotten you one of those in Lordran, you know," Oscar commented.

"Not like this one," Raven told him, "this sword was crafted specially in the far east, and then imported to the best smith in Vinheim, on order from a lord in Carim, specifically for me. It's a perfect fusion of steel and sorcery, not sacrificing a bit of it's sharp edge to make room for it's enchantment," Raven explained. Sure enough, the closer Oscar looked, he noted that the blade had a blue, glowing aura.

"Wait... how did you get a member of nobility to make you a gift like this?" Oscar asked, eyeing her suspiciously. Oh, shit. She had walked right into that one. Raven sighed in resignation.

"He was my father," Raven admitted, ashamed.

"Father? You're nobility? Why didn't you tell me? And... how did you wind up as a thief?"

"Because he would hate what I've become. He was a servant of Velka, but... he was hit with the curse shortly after I was born. He had the sword made for me at birth. Of course, because he wasn't actually dead, I inherited nothing else, leaving me in poverty. I started by begging on the streets. Of course, in Carim, everyone is suspicious of beggars, so no one helped me. Eventually, after a few months of near-starvation, I was forced to take matters into my own hands. I started stealing, and I was banished from Carim soon after, when I got caught trying to sell a holy relic that I had stolen from Velka's chapel. I moved on to it's outlying regions, but, of course, I got banished from them, one by one. I moved to Astora, and tried to start over, make a living normally. Then the same thing happened to me in Astora, except with a church of the Way of White - I left before they could even try to banish me. Finally, I arrived here, in Zena. I managed to become a servant to a middle-class merchant. I'd been here for about three years when the curse hit me, and I was promptly shipped off to the undead asylum. Waited around a few months before you showed up to rescue me. That enough for you?" By the end of her story, she was in tears, her mind filled with painful memories that she had just unburied. It had all come out in a rush, Raven having been unable to contain her emotions any longer.

"I'm sorry," Oscar muttered, hugging her in an attempt at comfort. It helped a little. Some hidden part of her, buried deep amid her mental walls, was actually glad that she had told Oscar. The rest of her at least was willing to admit that he deserved to know - with the physical intimacy that she had shared with him, it was only fair that she shared her emotions as well. Before she could talk herself out of it, she pulled his visor up and kissed him on the lips - the first kiss, or any other intimate gesture, that actually meant anything. The first time they had been intimate, both of them had simply lost self control, and they had agreed to move past it as if nothing had happened. The second time... well, they had been drunk, and that was the only excuse for it that existed. But in that moment, Raven chose her feelings, chose Oscar. She pulled away after a moment, and forced her mind away from the euphoria that was currently pouring through her, back to the matter at hand. In just the few minutes since they had left the makeshift hospital, the sun had set entirely, and Raven heard the bones rattling of skeletons coming to investigate the deaths of their friends.

"How many people are left alive?" Raven asked, and Oscar shook his head worriedly.

"Only about a few hundred," he replied, "They gathered at the citadel, and they're trying to hold there. There are a few people still scattered throughout the city, who have locked their doors, hunkered down, and hoped for the best. Zena sent out riders everywhere, moving as fast as they could. The reinforcements from the outlying villages should be here come morning." The skeletons rounded the corners from both sides of the streets.

"I don't have that long," Raven answered, as the skeletons began to charge them, "We'll need to find Pinwheel and put an end to this. We fight to the citadel." Raven and Oscar spun back to back, to meet the twin waves of skeletons head on.

AN: I hope you enjoyed the first piece back from my extremely long break. I'm trying to get three chapters published a week until Christmas, by which point hopefully I'll be able to bring this to a conclusion.


	8. Chapter 8: Blood and Iron

AN: Of course I missed my date again. Sorry about the extra day. I'm pushing for Saturday as the next chapter. On to more story-based stuff, remember how I said Tarkus and Andrew vs. the Capra Demon? I forgive you if you don't. It was a long time ago. I'm going to correct that right now: It's just Tarkus vs. the Capra Demon. You'll see why just a few paragraphs in.

Chapter Eight: Blood and Iron

Despite his usefulness so far, Andrew's constant griping had almost driven Tarkus to kill him several times. He restrained himself because, as depressed as Andrew was, he was quite likely only a single death away from going hollow. However, Andrew was likely only inches away from death, as he had just fulfilled what Tarkus viewed as his only purpose on this mission. The key Andrew possessed clicked in the lock of the tower door, which swung open. Andrew led Tarkus down a set of stairs, and gestured to a very, very long ladder.

"Just down here," Andrew said, "Although I can't say I'm exactly eager to climb down." As of that last, irritatingly repetitive complaint, Tarkus had had enough.

"Of course not. What was it you said before? Oh, never mind, I remember. You said that you'd 'die again before stepping foot in that miserable cesspool.' Well, it looks like you'll have your way." Tarkus raised his foot, and Andrew suddenly found himself positioned between it and a very long drop.

"No! I didn't mean it like tha-uhh!" Andrew was cut off as Tarkus shoved his foot forwards, sending Andrew reeling over the edge. He made a very satisfying thud as he hit the ground, Tarkus decided. He'd rather face whatever monstrosities Andrew had warned him of, in an extremely annoying manner, than put up with more of the crestfallen warrior's complaints.

"Good riddance," he muttered as he slung his shield and sword over his back and began to climb down down the absurdly long ladder. Who in their right mind would ever make a ladder that was so damned long? Why couldn't the entrance to the Lower Undead Burg be, say, a staircase leading down from one or more residences in the Upper Burg, or, even more conveniently, another branch of the waterway between the Upper Burg and Firelink Shrine. At the very least, couldn't they have put this ridiculously long ladder closer to the entrance of the Burg? Tarkus had been forced to fight his way through the entirety of the undead burg whilst being peppered with annoyance by a complaining asshole. All of that managed to find it's way in and out of Tarkus' mind before he could even reach the bottom of this damned ladder. And, when those thoughts had finished running through his brain, he realized, with all of his complaining about the ladder, which he should have simply buckled down and dealt with, that the most horrifying thing he could imagine had occurred. Andrew's depressed, complaining personality had rubbed off on him. Before the incident outside of Sen's Fortress, he had been cheery and upbeat despite the massive task that he had to accomplish. After what felt like hours, he reached the bottom, and stepped out of the tower basement onto a landing. Instantly, the stench of accumulated rot and decay washed over him. Tarkus knew it would only get worse as he descended. He wanted to get through this, and get his damned answers, as quickly as possible.

Tarkus raced down a flight of stairs, and was immediately tackled by a massive, rotting undead attack dog. Somehow, with it's massive claws and teeth, it managed to find it's way to gaps in his armor, causing an extreme amount of pain and actually drawing blood. Tarkus managed to impale the first dog with his greatsword, only to be pounced on by two more, which pinned him to the ground. He was mad. He had come all this way to be killed by a trio of dogs? He didn't think so. With a growl, Tarkus yanked himself to his feet, throwing off the two hounds. One of the dogs was flung free into a flaming pyre nearby, and was incinerated. The other dog landed on its back, rolling to its feet as Tarkus raised his shield. The dog bounced off of the massive iron plate as it pounced again, and Tarkus took the opportunity to slam his greatsword down on the pitiful creature's prone form. Somehow, Tarkus knew that those damned dogs were far from the last challenge that he would face as he moved through this rotting mess.

Tarkus started forwards, moving down the foul smelling street as it sloped downwards. He assumed that downwards was the best way to go - deeper was the answer if he was trying to find the second bell of awakening. Whatever creature that these bells were supposed to awaken would have a very unpleasant time for making a test this damned hard, just so that Tarkus could figure out what had happened to his friends. Tarkus hadn't made it 15 paces down the street before he heard the sound of doors swinging open. A black-garbed hollow thief jumped out from a doorway in front of him, and, as Tarkus glanced over his shoulder to check his flank, he saw two more approaching silently from behind him. Tarkus immediately broke into a run towards the thief in front of him, and brought his greatsword around into an overhead slam which had to be enough to kill the hollow thief.

Unfortunately, Tarkus' powerful attack never actually made contact. The thief dexterously turned his blow aside with a swipe of it's shield, leaving him wide open. All three thieves took that moment as opportunity to jump onto him, stabbing him in various places. He felt more blood flowing out of the wounds as the thieves jumped free of his encumbered form, kicking him to the ground as they scrambled away. Tarkus grabbed his estus flask out of his satchel and took two swigs as he rose, but it was still nowhere close to enough - Tarkus could feel that there were still wounds between his armor, slowly leaking blood. Tarkus growled at the three thieves, cowering behind their tiny yet effective target shields, before rushing forwards again. He wasn't making the mistake of moving into anything that they could parry - instead, he jumped, bringing his foot up to kick one of them over, before slamming his weight down on its prone form. He felt multiple ribs shatter under the combined weight of his body and his equipment, and knew that the thief wouldn't be getting up. The other two thieves rushed at him in anger, which Tarkus supposed did make quite a bit of sense; he had just killed their friend. Tarkus slashed with his massive greatsword, and he felt it connect with one thief. It didn't stop there, following through to slice the first thief in half, connecting with the second thief and dismembering it as well. Tarkus heard the satisfying squish of flesh as the meaty chunk remnants of both thieves hit the ground. Tarkus moved onwards, rounding a tight corner that could act as a bottleneck and cutting through another dog that rushed at him. He pressed onwards, slashing through three more thieves that jumped out of doorways at him without a second thought. Another dog hit the ground, dead as it made the mistake of rushing towards him. Then Tarkus reached the end of a street, and the way forwards was blocked by a fog door. Without a second thought, Tarkus stepped through it, and into the worst nightmare he had ever seen.

He found himself faced with a very cramped space, and noted two more dogs rushing at him. That wasn't the problem, though. That challenge was tame compared to the third monster that occupied the space. Standing at about ten feet tall, a massive cross between a man and a skeletal goat, seeming to wear a ram's skull as a mask but more likely having that horrifying of a head, raised two massive greatswords that bore a remarkable similarity to machetes. In fact, Tarkus realized, that's exactly what they were. Giant machetes. He was about to be squished flat by a pair of giant machetes. Tarkus managed to sidestep the creature's first, massive overhead slam, but was immediately tackled by a dog, which pushed him back into the path of another massive swing. Tarkus raised his shield above him desperately, and felt a horrifyingly massive impact slam into it, crumpling and denting it like it was made of paper. Fortunately, the dog that had been on top of him had been similarly squished. Tarkus discarded his shield, knowing that it would be of no more use to him without a repairbox, a blacksmith, or some other method of reforging it. Tarkus took his greatsword in both hands to face what he now realized was a chaos demon.

Tarkus impaled the second dog as it jumped at him, but regretted it immediately as the demon performed a horizontal slash with it's right machete, and he had no method to avoid it except hitting the ground. Tarkus did so, hard, and felt a sense of relief as the machete passed harmlessly over his head. Tarkus cleared the dog corpse off of his greatsword, and started to stand before realizing that the left machete was coming around for a second pass. Tarkus dropped to the ground again, and his foe, undoubtedly expecting a larger amount of resistance in the form of Tarkus himself, overbalanced. Tarkus took the opportunity to stand up and slash at the chaos demon's left Achilles tendon. The demon dropped to one knee, and Tarkus promptly lopped its head clean off. Both the head and the body disintegrated into dust, as did both of the demon's weapons. However, a humanity sprite, and a small key, were left behind. Tarkus retrieved both of them, and moved on.

AN: Sorry about a shorter chapter, but like I said, I'm trying to break the ones still in Lordran up by zones, and the Lower Burg is incredibly small. Stay tuned for Siegmeyer and Havel in the next chapter.


	9. Chapter 9: Darkwraith Drama

AN: And I missed my deadline again, by almost a week. Well, at least it's better than leaving the story for a month and a half without having another project going to justify moving off of this one. Also, the ideas that I introduce here aren't just headcanons. There's actual, valid evidence to back them up. If you find yourself wondering look up the video "Rediscover Dark Souls Lore: Ash Lake, Havel, and the Plot against the Gods" by Hawkshaw on YouTube. It's quite long, but that's where I got some of these ideas. Because Havel's suspected arranged marriage and a separate lover is based in pure speculation, I'm going to assume that his lover who is found dead in the Duke's Archives was his actual wife and not just a mistress. And because of the shit that I've already written which IS headcanons, regarding Havel and Sieglinde, we're going to be assuming that that girl is Sieglinde and chalking her appearance there up to timeline convolutions. I also can't incorporate some other stuff because I've already written the story in an entirely different direction.

Chapter Nine: Darkwraith Drama

Siegmeyer was having an altogether too good time, Havel decided. The silver-plated knight was cavorting around in his bulky, onion-like armor as if there was no one else in the world. Havel understood the joy that came with being welcomed back into one's home - it had been denied to Havel himself for far too long. However, Siegmeyer seemed to be filled with more than joy. He seemed almost... smug, as if he was rubbing in the fact that he got to come home, and no other undeads did. Havel let him be, however. He was too focused on completing his task of finding a map to worry about the amazed stares that he was getting from the general populace; Havel knew that it had been likely several hundred years since anyone had seen the likes of him in any city, anywhere. After the miserable failure of the plot against the gods that he had taken part in, most of his knights had been executed or imprisoned, left to go hollow. Havel ignored the stares, but that didn't mean he wasn't observing the condition of the city. Most of the general populace seemed as if they had seen better days; their jubilant expressions were pulled over thin faces, or tempered with emotions like caution, or fear. In some rare cases, the trademark expressions of the Catarinans was simply gone. Havel made a note to ask a merchant about it, once he got his map. Siegmeyer, probably once the epitome of Catarinan society, now looked extremely out of place, being as joyful and frolicky as he was. When he bumbled his way back towards Havel, Havel grabbed Siegmeyer by the shoulder and pointed this out to him.

"You're right... they simply don't look as upbeat as they should be... that just means that someone needs to spread cheer to them! And I suppose I'll have to be the one to do it! Thanks for the tip, friend!" Siegmeyer bounced away to continue radiating his altogether too jolly personality to the people around him, who just seemed to be getting more exasperated by the attempt. Havel shook his head in exasperation himself, and continued walking, leaving Siegmeyer to his frolicking fun. He still needed a map quite desperately, after all. He couldn't afford to waste time in the clearly useless attempt of keeping Siegmeyer on a leash. Havel scanned his surroundings for any sort of merchant, and there wasn't anyone who appeared to be selling anything - he would have to keep walking and looking around deeper in the city. He allowed his thoughts, and his memories in particular, to run rampant. When he allowed that to happen, his mind inevitably jumped back to Sieglinde. Curse Seath to the depths of Izalith - the paledrake hadn't only stolen Havel's life by locking him in that makeshift cell, but had also stolen his reason, his justification to live by kidnapping the girl who he was going to marry, and condemning her to die despite the fact that she wasn't undead, or imbued with any sort of special soul that would allow her to come back to life at the cost of hollowing out gradually. She had just been killed, flat out. Siegmeyer's claim that Sieglinde had hardly been there at all wasn't accurate, and it was even more off-base, because Lin, as both Havel and Siegmeyer had called her, hadn't left Lordran at all. She had died there. Havel supposed that that was one good way to shut down Siegmeyer's jolly mood, telling him that his daughter was dead in Lordran, but Havel didn't want a Zweihander in the chest either. As it was, he was filled with despair at the thought as well, redoubled when his mind jumped to the fact that he had only learned after her death: she had been pregnant with Havel's child when Seath took her. It didn't help matters that Gwyn and every one of his followers, basically the equivalent of the entire city of Anor Londo, save for a few men and women with minds of their own, such as Velka, had turned a blind eye to Seath's activities, claiming that the duke would never reduce himself to such levels. Even now, years removed from the issue, Havel wanted to scream with rage. Havel had no clue whether or not their child had survived, but he knew that Lin hadn't. He found her corpse rotting in a cell when he and his team were storming Seath's archives during the rebellion.

Havel's line of thought was interrupted by a clamor in the market square ahead. Havel raised his shield instinctively, and realized that it wasn't regarding him. There was a robed figure with a dark, blood red aura standing over a corpse. Havel growled in fury. The figure that stood before him was a darkwraith - while Kaathe was far more truthful than his counterpart Frampt, Havel couldn't stand for Kaathe's chosen group of servants. Havel sprinted forwards, and before the darkwraith could react, Havel slammed his massive dragon tooth club down on the man, killing him instantly. A cloud of bloodred smoke drifted upwards from the point of impact, and Havel quickly cleaned what he could only assume was dark soul essence off of his great club before bringing it to rest back on his shoulder. It almost seemed too... easy. Havel scanned the crowd suspiciously, and suddenly felt a flaring pain in his back, before he was thrown to the ground. Somehow, the darkwraith had managed to circle around behind him and stab him in the back while he was recovering from his attack. As Havel got up and spun around, the darkwraith grabbed him by the throat. Havel felt a horrifying cold chill pass through him, and with it, a pull on his essence. The darkwraith was using the art of lifedrain on him. Havel knew that this was when the darkwraith was hardest to resist... but also when it was most vulnerable to outside interference. Havel slipped out his talisman, a relic of the time when he was a bishop, an age long past, and focused his energy. His time alone with Solaire while Oscar had been trying to breach Anor Londo had resulted in him learning a thing or two; a bolt of lightning formed in Havel's hand around the talisman, and before the effects of the darkwraith's lifedrain began to take hold, Havel slammed the bolt of lightning into the Darkwraith's chest. Not expecting the attack, the darkwraith had no chance to do... whatever it had done to avoid his massive dragon's tooth. The darkwraith tensed, and Havel felt its hold on him loosen, before he was dropped to the ground. The darkwraith dropped to the ground as well, significantly more dead than Havel himself. It had been a quick fight, far faster than he expected for the fact that it ended in his favor. However, he knew that, even with the haste he made, he was already too late. There was a withered remnant, all but a corpse, of what used to be a man laying on the ground next to where Havel had crushed the darkwraith, and Havel knelt down to acknowledge his life, before sighing and crushing the remnant, putting him out of his misery. A woman near him screamed.

"Why would you do that? Don't you have any respect for the dead?" she yelled at him, angry. Clearly she was one of the dead man's loved ones. Havel shook his head sadly.

"I have respect for the dead. I also know what power the Darkwraiths have - they drain every last bit of essence from you, leave you without memories, or humanity, or... anything. But they don't kill you. They turn you into an insane, hollow husk of your former self, which, if you aren't put out of your misery quickly enough, will run rampant, stealing the essence of others in the same way, a vain attempt to regain what it has lost, and those people will become the same way in turn. I have respect for the dead. I also have enough respect for the living to know when death would be preferable," Havel answered sadly. That was the true danger of the darkwraiths - their ability to corrupt those around them and transform them into horrible, defiled creatures, more dangerous than simple hollows but with no higher quality of life. Eventually, those creatures, if left unchecked long enough to absorb enough life for themselves, would evolve into full darkwraiths themselves, and the cycle would continue, over and over, until either the darkwraiths or the humans were wiped out. And gods forbid that the latter alternative come to pass. Havel had no idea what darkwraiths would be doing in Catarina, but it was certainly a massive problem. Havel's attention was suddenly turned away from the problem to, well, the problem, when Havel heard Siegmeyer's voice scream out,

"Havel! There's a darkwraith over here!" Havel, following the sound of the Onion Knight's voice, rushed forwards, slinging his shield over his back and raising his club to attack. Sure enough, a few blocks away, Siegmeyer was locked in combat with a second darkwraith. One, Havel could pass off as an unfortunate coincidence, a happenstance that he was lucky to be there for to prevent it from growing worse. Two, arriving in conjunction with Havel and Siegmeyer themselves, caused Havel's suspicions to grow. Havel didn't have any time to worry about that now, though; his friend was in danger. While Siegmeyer had lasted this long, he was quickly losing ground, his much larger and slower sword, and much too small pierce shield, designed only for deflection and some offense, were simply unable to keep up with the quick, striking blows of the darkwraith's unique sword. In fact, as Havel approached, Siegmeyer slipped once, and then twice, taking two heavy blows to his center of mass which caused him to stumble backwards slightly. The darkwraith was on him in an instant, grabbing his throat. A red aura glowed around the darkwraith's hand, and Siegmeyer gasped in shock. Havel knew that Siegmeyer had just fallen into the same attack that Havel had been afflicted by a moment before, and Havel knew how quickly Kaathe's gift could do it's work. Havel would never cover the remaining block between them in time, and there was no time for him to set up his greatbow either, due to the high draw time, not to mention the risk of hitting Siegmeyer. However, a lightning bolt just might. Havel slipped his talisman out once again, and flung a spear of lightning straight at the darkwraith. Fortunately, Havel's aim was true. The lightning bolt caught the darkwraith in the side of the head and blew the abomination sideways, killing him instantly and freeing Siegmeyer from its grip.

"Thanks. Where did that thing come from?" Siegmeyer asked, standing up and picking up his Zweihander. However, Havel had no time to reply, much less give his suspicions voice, as the shadows of buildings around the both of them melted into a grand total of five darkwraiths, far more than the two of them would be able to handle apart from each other. However, each guarding the other's back... it might just be possible. Before any of the newly appeared darkwraiths had time to react, Havel rushed towards Siegmeyer, closing the distance between them and stopping just by his side.

"What's our plan here?" Siegmeyer asked, hefting his Zweihander in preparation for combat, a nervous look doublessly crossing his face under his helmet.

"Stay close to each other, and out of grabbing range. Watch each other's backs, and be mindful if they evaporate. They manage that, they aren't really dead." Havel told him, and, the planning window ending, the darkwraiths charged in unison. Havel immediately smashed the closest one, which evaporated. Havel immediately spun his club in a circle, catching the darkwraith as it melted out of Havel's own shadow behind him. The darkwraith couldn't vanish a second time, and was sent flying by Havel's club. One down, four to go. A second darkwraith tried to grab him from behind with lifedrain while his back was turned to the main crowd, but that one was met with the blade of Siegmeyer's Zweihander, which quickly lopped off the offending darkwraith's head. Havel spun back to face the remaining three enemies.

"These aren't so bad, so long as you're careful," Siegmeyer noted as he spun to face the crowd as well. As it turned out that was exactly the wrong thing to say. All three darkwraiths growled, seemingly in rage at being dismissed as easy to defeat, and the glowing dark red auras on each wraith's left hand was raised towards them, and bled from a dark blood red color to a bright orange, almost like a flame. Pyromancy. Too late, Havel realized what was about to happen and desperately unslung his shield off of his back as he pivoted in front of Siegmeyer. A massive plume of black flames, not unlike those he had seen Raven use on a few select occasions, erupted from each Darkwraith's hand, and the force was incredible. While Havel's massive greatshield protected him from being incinerated on the spot, he had no time to brace against the incredible force which came alongside this particular variant of flame. Havel's guard was blown wide open, and he was knocked backwards into Siegmeyer, who was bowled over as well. Neither one of them could stand up in time, and the three darkwraiths were on them in a blur. Both Havel and Siegmeyer were helplessly trapped by the wraiths. Havel tried to reach his talisman, but the monster holding him was apparently Havel's lightning trick, and restrained his arm as a precaution. Havel knew that he and Siegmeyer were done for.

Their salvation came in the form of the third darkwraith, who grew angry that he wasn't getting a share in the feeding. Instead of going off to find an easy victim among the general populace, the third wraith grabbed the one holding Havel, who in turn released Havel to defend against the onslaught. During their clash of lifedrain, which seemed to be very occupying, Havel pulled himself to his feet and crushed the darkwraith pinning Siegmeyer, who gasped in relief and collapsed to the ground, clearly too drained by his own wraith's grab that he was unable to fight. No matter. So long as more wraiths didn't pop up, Havel could handle the situation from there. He spun in a circle with his club, slamming it into both of the wraiths locked in a battle with each other simultaneously, killing them both. Siegmeyer managed to get some Estus swigged, and Havel helped him up. By now, Havel knew for sure what the problem was.

"I'll ask again," Siegmeyer stated between deep gasps for breath, "Where are these things coming from?"

Havel's felt his expression darken inside of his helmet as he began to explain his horror filled theory.

AN: Shit. I spoiled WAY too much when I revealed Hawkshaw's lore video. There's an obvious conclusion that you can come to that I didn't want you to find out. I could just remove it, but I have a philosophy that what I write, I write, and I can't go back and change it, even before I publish it (besides fixing grammar errors and really shit writing). I took that oath after the chapter 2 revamp hit people out of nowhere. While I didn't get any complaints about it, per se, I still felt guilty. So I'll leave it in there, and I'll leave this open to reviews to see if anyone can guess just what they're not supposed to know yet. Additionally, I want to know your opinions on two other things: First, how exactly should Solaire and Ornstein get themselves caught and shipped back to Lordran. That's the simple question. Then, second, the more complicated one: It should be obvious, to those of you who are paying attention, that Raven is going to be faced with a choice. While she has chosen to stay with Oscar, what will she DO with him? The choice is going to be symbolized by the legacy Oswald gave her, representing her own life and desires, versus that of Lordran (multiple characters, between Giant Dad and the Witch of Izalith and... there's another one that would be spoiling way too freaking much.) Anyways, I want to know, which side do you think she should choose first? As I've teased before, this story is going to be written with multiple alternate endings, potentially branching all the way back to the displacement incident. Chapter 11 is going to be a similar branch point. You'll all get to see all the possibilities with where this could go eventually, but I'll leave it up to public opinion which story I write first. I'm going to veto anyone who says that I should write the standard linear Dark Souls experience first, that ship has sailed... (although you kinda get that with Tarkus, and I'll do that again later with everyone staying in Lordran and the curse never breaking, that ending is going to be the most depressing as a warning) but I just want to know what you guys want to see. Lastly, and less important, how did you like the darkwraiths' new power to teleport out of the way of attacks that would be lethal? I felt like it added a nice

PS: Feel free to spam me with private messages until I finally cave if I don't release the next chapter on a reasonable timescale.


	10. Chapter 10: Evil Eye

AN: Of course I found out, doing research between chapter 9 and here, that Astora is actually supposed to have been destroyed by the Beast of the Evil Eye. I'm well aware of the fact now, but I couldn't ever find a timescale for when it happened, other than before the events of Dark Souls 1. As a result, I'm going to say that it was rather recent, from the point of view of this storyline. And so, I got off-track again, writing a chapter about Solaire exploring the ruins of his beloved city rather than trying to get back to Lordran. Enjoy!

Chapter Ten: Evil Eye

Solaire grinned jovially as he and Ornstein continued in their long trek out of the mountains and down towards Astora. While he knew that he was, ultimately, going to be sent back to Lordran for this journey, he relished the opportunity to see the city that had been his home for so long once more. Solaire and Ornstein were now into the foothills from the mountains, and Solaire knew from having made this approach multiple times in the past that they were nearly there. There were a grand total of two more hills to climb over, and beyond that only a few thousand meters to the city gates. He smiled as he crested the penultimate hill, continuing down into the valley. Solaire remembered his glorious view of Astora from the mountaintops - its towers gleaming silver and rising tall to the sky, just as ever. He hadn't been able to make out any details at that distance, but his mind was more than capable of filling in the rest.

Solaire briefly glanced over at Ornstein, the golden-clad lionlike dragon slayer easily keeping pace with him as he climbed the hill. Ornstein had every bit of the grace befitting the animal whose symbol he was dressed in. They crested a hill, and Solaire's jolly attitude instantly vanished. There, before him, was the glorious city of Astora... without any of its glory. The wall surrounding the city was crumbling and scorched, while most of the buildings inside of the city had been leveled. Only the peaks of the tall towers, the segments that Solaire had been able to see from the mountaintops, retained any of their beauty. Smoke rose from the entirety of the city, and Solaire gasped in horror. Instead of radiating beauty, glory, and safety, Astora radiated death and decay. With an angry shout, Solaire sprinted down the final hill, drawing his sword and shield with a scream of rage. He charged the city, determined to destroy the monster which had reduced his beloved homeland to such a state. That is, until he found himself flat on his back.

* * *

Ornstein watched with very limited patience as Solaire rushed down the hill with a scream, seeming as though he was trying to avenge the city. After a moment, Ornstein realized that the sunlight warrior wouldn't be coming to his senses of his own accord any time soon, and sprinted after him. Ornstein's larger strides and training with moving incredibly swiftly easily deposited him ahead of Solaire, who, in his rage, seemed not to notice the large dragon slayer. Since Solaire wasn't stopping, Ornstein responded by simply raising the butt of his spear to slam Solaire in the chest. The sunlight warrior was knocked clean off of his feet, deposited surely and efficiently on his back. Ornstein growled warningly as Solaire jumped to his feet, turning and preparing to charge the golden-armored spearman himself.

"I would advise against that," Ornstein said with a pointed look at Solaire. To further reinforce his point, he examined the tip of his spear, making it quite obvious that he was weighing its size against that of Solaire. The sunlight warrior picked up on the cue, and gulped visibly.

"Advice noted," Solaire said, "But why did you stop me? This destruction must be avenged!" Ornstein sighed inwardly; even now, Solaire wasn't getting the bigger picture. Ornstein began to explain patiently, knowing that himself getting frustrated would get the pair absolutely nowhere.

"First of all, your quest for vengeance is completely misguided. We've no guarantee that whatever did this is still here. Additionally, if it is, what chance do you have charging in alone with nothing but your sword and shield. It was able to do this to a rather well defended city, after all." Solaire nodded hesitantly, sheathing his sword and replacing his shield on his bac,

"So, what do you propose?" Solaire asked, looking at Ornstein hopefully.

"We proceed, but we proceed with caution," Ornstein said. Solaire seemed in agreement to this, and the duo walked towards the city together.

* * *

Astora looked even worse from inside the city walls. The cobbled streets, once polished to the point of shining, were now dull and tarnished, covered with ash and cracked far too frequently. Rubble from the smaller buildings was strewn everywhere, and it soon became clear that not even the towers, which appeared to still be standing strong and tall, escaped unscathed. Solaire was on the verge of tears as he walked through the ruins of his once-great city, restraining them only for the sake of Ornstein, who kept stride immediately at his back. The entire city, in the state that it was in, radiated despair and death, with just a hint of the lingering malice that had caused this destruction.

Over the next ten minutes, Solaire and Ornstein had covered almost an eighth of the city, confirming it to be completely empty. As they finished their search of the first octant, however, and were about to move on to the second, they heard a wheezing cough, followed by a weak cry for help. Solaire snapped to attention, noticing that Ornstein did the same, both doing their best to locate the source of the sound. Before very long, they managed to narrow down the source of the sound to a single, collapsed house. The pair began quickly digging through the rubble, and before very long, uncovered a man who was still alive, if only just. They hastily pulled him free of the rubble, and Solaire crouched down to take a look at him - the man was completely human, meaning that there would be no way for them to simply give him an Estus Flask and allow his body to heal itself. Reasoning this out rather quickly, Solaire did the next best thing; he pulled out his talisman, a personalized item made of feathers, and said a quick prayer for healing, kneeling over the man. The injured man's wounds immediately closed, and he took a deep breath, far healthier than the wheezing breaths that he had been taking just moments before.

"Thank you, sir knights. I think that this city may have a chance at justice after all," the man said, sitting up.

"How do you mean?" Ornstein asked, "How big is the army that did this?"

"Not an army. A creature. One single, massive beast, black as the night. It's like a dragon, but... not quite. It's gaze alone is capable of ripping the souls from the strongest of men, and it seems to be made of nothing but pure shadows. Not even the holy swords of the Astoran company of elite knights could harm it. But... there is a way. I determined that if the beast is naught but a twisted soul given form, it must be possible to trap this soul. I made this..." The man held up a ring, intricately worked silver, but with a blank faceplate, almost as if the crest hadn't been added yet. Ornstein gasped audibly.

"The magic infusing that is evil. I can have nothing to do with it!" Ornstein exclaimed, quickly backing away from the man and raising his spear.

"Relax, Ornstein. You won't have to. I'll carry the ring," Solaire said, taking it from the man and turning back to him.

"Now, if you would be so kind to explain how it works?" Solaire asked the man, as he accepted the enchanted piece of jewelry.

"It's quite simple, really. The ring needs to come into contact with the essence of the beast, and it'll be absorbed in instants. The ring will gain powers based on the nature of the beast, and it could come quite in handy later on down your journey," the man explained, "Now, go. Before you lose your chance. And... I'll let it slide that you're back given the nature of this city... Solaire." The sunlight warrior chuckled at being recognized, placing the ring in his left palm after slipping his shield onto his back.

"Come," Solaire told his dragon slaying companion, "Let's go find this foul beast of darkness."

* * *

Solaire spotted the beast within two minutes of setting out again, standing ominously over the ruins of the central palace of the once-great Astora. True to the man's word, the creature resembled a dragon, but was wreathed in darkness which writhed about itself, seeming never to be still even whilst the beast as a whole was completely static. Solaire glanced down at the ring, and back at Ornstein.

"How far away do you reckon I can throw this from?" Solaire asked the golden-armored dragon slayer, trying to judge their current distance to the beast. It would be a long shot from here, but he _could_ pull it off, from relative safety.

"I reckon you can make it," Ornstein said, "I've seen your arm tossing those lightning spears before." Solaire was surprised that he had, considering that the two of them had never actually battled side by side, or truly against each other, as of yet.

_Must be some observing magic of the gods,_ Solaire reasoned to himself, and readied his arm to throw the ring. After a final glance at Ornstein, who nodded, Solaire adjusted his aim one last time, and flung the ring towards the beast. The small trinket sailed beautifully through the air, glimmering as the sun's light reflected off of it's polished silver surface. However, as the shimmering speck arced away from them, it became obvious that Solaire's throw had fallen a few feet short. Solaire swore aloud as it hit the ground with a harmless plink. Maybe a tad bit _ too_ loud. No sooner had the curse left his lips than the beast growled, turning it's gaze towards them

"Don't meet it's eyes!" Ornstein exclaimed, ducking his head and placing his body between himself and Solaire. Solaire himself remembered very clearly his old friend's words about the beast's gaze. Ornstein fired a lightning bolt from his spear blindly, but whether it hit the beast or not, it had no effect. A plan formulated in Solaire's mind.

"I have an idea. I know where the ring landed, so if you could draw the beast's attention while I ran to grab it, I could give it another throw - I'd get much closer, this time around. I don't want to be missing again," Solaire announced, and Ornstein glanced back at him, nodding. Ornstein sprinted off in one direction, making no attempt to conceal the noise of his armor. The beast, being only that, took the bait immediately. As soon as it had moved off of the spot where the ring had landed, Solaire broke cover, making a beeline for the spot where the ring had plopped to the ground. With the excitement of the battle inside him as it was, Solaire managed to close the distance in a matter of seconds, stopping as he caught a glimmer of light inside of a pile of rubble. He had found it. Now, the trouble was reaching it; it was inside of a pile of rubble.

Solaire muttered a quick prayer for his companion's safety while he dove into the pile, digging around for the ring. He felt the cold metal on his fingers for a moment, before the ring fell deeper into the rubble. Solaire reached deeper in after it, and he felt his fingers brush just outside of their ability to pick the thing up. There was only one option left to him. He pushed down on the ring, as hard as he could, and grabbed his talisman with his other hand, creating an expanding wave of brutal force. The pile of rubble disintegrated, leaving Solaire standing with his fingers pinning the glimmering enchanted ring to a rock. Solaire grabbed the ring, and sprinted after Ornstein and the beast he was distracting.

* * *

Ornstein decided very quickly that fighting a foe which you could neither hit nor look at was incredibly difficult. Ornstein's main priority was avoiding the beast's attacks, but even that was difficult - he had to rely on the sounds that the creature made as it swung it's massive paws at him - paws that could somehow hit him, despite him being unable to touch them. Ornstein had lasted for almost two minutes now, and was beginning to wonder where the hell Solaire was with that ring. Just as the thought crossed his mind, however, he heard the beast roar and shriek in an earsplitting manner, closely resembling a cry of pain. Ornstein made the horrible mistake of glancing back over his shoulder. He saw the beast imploding, as if being sucked into the ring, as white lines ran across it's entire being. However, it's eyes remained intact, and Ornstein realized that he was looking straight into them. Not a single instant later, he felt a feeling within, something horribly _wrong,_ and he screamed as that feeling morphed into one of absolute agony before his world went black.

* * *

Ornstein awoke to the sight of Solaire's concerned face, and sat up. It took him about three more seconds to realize that there was something seriously wrong. Solaire was almost a full three inches TALLER - the last time Ornstein had stood next to Solaire, he had been almost twice the height of the sunlight warrior. Shortly after that, Ornstein realized that his armor and spear were missing - he was dressed in simple cloths, probably the only things that could be found.

"What's going on?" Ornstein demanded, his red eyes fixing on Solaire and glaring at him.

"Ornstein... I don't know where to begin."

AN: Wow, that turned out differently than expected. Also took a hell of a lot longer than expected - I still am waiting on your guys' decision as to which ending you want to see. As for the last bit... Ornstein as human? (Or whatever creature he is if you take the piece of lord soul out of the equation)? I want to know your take on that, and how I rendered the beast of the evil eye. I'm so done setting deadlines... no need to give you guys false hope. I guess I'll get to the next chapter when I get to it.


	11. Chapter 11: Battles Won

AN: I didn't get any reviews that requested one decision or another, so I've gone and made the decision for you guys. You'll see where it goes by the end of the chapter, but this one is a branch point - there will be alternate writes of this chapter released down the road, which lead Raven in different directions. As always, enjoy!

Chapter Eleven: Battles Won

Raven and Oscar were a blur of motion as they chopped through skeleton after skeleton, trying to fight their way to the central keep of the city, which, if not the location of Pinwheel himself, was at least a decent vantage to figure out where the self-multiplying monstrosity of a necromancer actually was located. Raven had used an hour of her four hour time limit, before she was royally screwed over - her symptoms flaring up before Pinwheel was dead would almost certainly result in Raven finding herself in a similar state of existence. They had covered almost half of the distance, but the frequency of skeletons had more than tripled in the distance - they had reached the point at which there was no way to even progress at all without hacking through hordes of skeletons, and the occasional giant. Oscar's shield was a massive help, covering for both of them, since Raven didn't have a shield of her own. Raven's own style was more focused on dispatching an individual opponent as quickly as possible in order to move on to the next one - something that her training with a katana was designed for - whilst Oscar was fighting with wider sweeps, attempting to cut through more skeletons at once and sometimes having to hit each multiple times. Even so, their progress was too slow - they wouldn't even make it to the tower before Raven's time ran out if they had to keep trudging forwards at this pace.

"Oscar! We're never going to make it like this!" Raven shouted, over the clamor of the battle in which they were engaged.

"I agree," Oscar yelled back, despite his incredibly close proximity to Raven, "But we don't really have a choice. You don't have the Zweihander, or access to Chaos or Dark Pyromancies... wait. Remember what happened in the Parish? Before we really got into this mess?" Oscar twisted to block a strike headed for Raven on his shield, while Raven herself spun to cleave in two a skeleton who was about to take advantage of Oscar's sudden opening.

"When? When I got you, Havel, and Solaire all killed?" Raven asked, still shouting over the chaos. Oscar winced visibly at the memory that her words had unearthed, even as he lopped the heads off of three more skeletons. Raven cleaved two more in half with alternate vertical strokes, even as Oscar began to reply.

"Well... yes, then. When you suddenly created a pyromancy flame out of nowhere. You reckon you could do that again? Not with a flame, but with the pyromancy itself. Something that won't eat you alive as badly as the stuff you used against Pinwheel?" Oscar parried and riposted another skeleton. Raven sheathed the katana, snapping it out of it's sheath in a lunge in one of the only multi-target attacks she had performed - incredibly effective, as it cut four different skeletons clean in two. Raven ignited the flame in her off hand, and glanced at it as she fought.

_Could I? I reckon that the ability is probably there, if I can just focus..._ Raven concentrated hard, something that was immensely difficult given all of the noise that she was surrounded by. However, her concentration yielded nothing - she couldn't think of a specific spell she wanted to perform.

"I'm not sure what sort of spell to make! Any ideas?" Raven desperately slashed through several more skeletons, feeling her hope fading as her mind failed again and again to generate ideas for a spell. It was clear, based on Oscar's silence, that he had none either. They kept fighting, slowly, far too slowly, towards the keep. They were progressing at a rate of only a few inches each minute, and they still had almost half a mile to traverse. Raven felt the energy of her pyromancy flame burning into her hand, asking, _begging _her to use it, to unleash the dark flames that came so easily to her, but she resisted. There had to be a better way. Then, she saw something: a skeleton that was entwined on a wheel, spinning through the crowd towards them. Oscar sliced the wheel in half easily, timing it with masterful perfection, but an idea took root in her mind. As she slashed through another two skeletons, it took on a different aspect in her mind. It became concrete, useable. Raven channeled energy, and gave it life.

"Oscar! Duck!" Raven shouted as she realized just how destructive the spell she was casting was going to be. Oscar looked at her in confusion, before realization sparked and he dropped to the ground. Seeing him out of harm's way, Raven let the spell explode outwards. A massive disc of flame formed under her hand, which she snapped outwards, sending the disc flying through the skeletal crowd, slicing through hundreds of the fleshless monsters at a time. Unfortunately, it was in completely the wrong direction, and left a smoldering path of destruction, perfectly traversable, that led clear _away_ from the central keep. Raven stumbled as she blocked a swipe from another skeleton, weakly slashing through him.

"Raven? Can you manage another one of those?" Oscar asked worryingly, noticing that the one that she fired hadn't been of much use, but also how much it had taken out of her. Oscar hacked off the head of a skeleton who slipped past Raven's guard, looking at her worriedly. Raven nodded hesitantly, charging up another spell and taking careful aim. She had fired the spell towards the keep the first time, but because of a massive spin it had veered sharply off to the side and wound up traveling away from their goal instead of towards it. With the second spell, Raven adjusted accordingly, firing the spell off to the side and watching it curve straight towards the cathedral. The range was shockingly impressive - it traversed the full half mile between them and the keep, only fizzling out when it slammed into the wall and could burn no longer. Oscar immediately sprinted down the opened path, Raven close behind. Normally, her exhaustion would have resulted in her collapsing, but due to the handy ring of a Havel knight, she was able to function at her best, despite her knowledge that she was thoroughly exhausted. It was a good thing that the spell had reached all the way to the keep, because she knew she wouldn't be casting any more for a while.

However, it quickly became clear that they wouldn't make it. Though they had covered almost a quarter mile, the skeletons ahead of them and behind them were gaining courage, starting to wander back into the scorched trail and close Raven and Oscar's path. Another hundred meters, and they were back in the situation with which they started, but this time Raven was too exhausted to fire another spell. Oscar and Raven spun back to back, analyzing the situation. Even pushing as hard as they could, they would never make it the remaining distance; there were way too many skeletons in the way Raven and Oscar slashed rapidly at the skeletons, pushing through the skeletons, but only managing to make a few steps forwards each minute. Oscar and Raven were both getting exhausted, and the skeletons just didn't stop coming.

Then, suddenly, they did. As Raven ducked under a blow, she came up to realize that there was no skeleton there to swing at her. She and Oscar watched, shocked, as the entire army crumbled into bones. The pair grinned madly, sprinting towards the keep as fast as they could. Something, or someone, had just won the battle on their behalf. As they burst into the keep, though, they saw that it wasn't that simple. A paladin, dressed in polished gold and white armor and wielding a massive great hammer, held a blood-red sprite aloft in his hand, chuckling. Raven saw Pinwheel's corpse fading away into souls beside the paladin, who sighed as he absorbed the massive sum coming off of the necromancer.

"At last, my master will have this back," the paladin said, satisfied, pocketing the red sprite. "Oh? What's this? Two more challengers, come to try and steal the rite away? I won't let you have it!" The paladin charged at them, not even giving them an opportunity to say that they weren't. He swung the massive hammer at Raven first, and she deflected it with her katana, only for it to shatter under the massive force. Raven was left safe from being crushed, at least for the moment, but completely unarmed. The paladin grunted his approval at her maneuver.

"Not terribly bad. A shame that your blade didn't hold up to the strain," the paladin grunted, raising his club again. Oscar, trying to preempt him, jumped into a shoulder bash, interrupting the paladin's swing and saving Raven from being squished again. Then, Raven saw something on the floor that would allow her to get back in the fight. A glint of orange-silver steel, the signature coloration of her chaos-infused Zweihander. Raven sprinted for it, hearing the sounds of Oscar and the paladin's clash in the background.

_"Are you sure you want to do that?"_ a voice sounded in Raven's mind as she reached for the handle of the blade.

"What do you mean?" Raven asked, looking around. She knew that the voice was coming from something inside her own mind.

_"You could leave. Walk away, right now. You could live a happy, full life free of the curse. Without Oscar, of course, but you could find something else to make you happy. You pick up that sword, and you save him, you're putting yourself on a path right back to Lordran, right back into the middle of the mess that you wanted for so long to avoid. Choose wisely..."_ The voice trailed off, leaving Raven horrified. But she knew very well that there was only one choice that she could really live with herself making. She steeled herself, determined, and snatched the Zweihander off of the ground. Immediately, she felt a darksign flare to life on her left breast, exploding with soul energy through her. Raven spun, sprinting towards the paladin and Oscar. She was too late. She saw Oscar's stroke be batted aside by a golden sun-patterned Sanctus shield, leaving him wide open. The paladin slammed his massive great hammer into Oscar's chest, launching him across the room. She heard bones crack both with the impact of the hammer and upon him landing, and screamed in rage.

"You bastard!" She shouted at the paladin, charging him. The paladin prepared to swing his great hammer once again, but Raven was faster, raising her hand to fling an explosion of pitch-black flames at him. The sudden conflagration caused the paladin to stumble, and Raven followed up with an overhead slam with the Zweihander. The paladin rolled away just in the nick of time, and Raven's blade slammed harmlessly into the ground. The paladin came up swinging, but once again, Raven was faster. She grabbed the Zweihander with both hands once again, slamming it up to block the paladin's club. While her katana had shattered using the same maneuver, she knew that the much sturdier blade of the Zweihander would hold up. However, her rage had a side effect she wasn't expecting; the Zweihander's flame was amplified, exploding in a wave of heat as Raven slashed her blade upwards. When the great hammer approached her own blade, the massive amount of flame coming off of the blade solidified and sheared the head clean off of the hammer, causing it to drop harmlessly to the ground. Raven followed up with an overhead slam, which the paladin desperately blocked with his Sanctus. The blow didn't cut clean through, but it did leave a nasty dent in the holy shield. Raven shouted in anger, slamming the Zweihander down again and again, denting and battering the paladin's Sanctus until it finally snapped in two, releasing a massive burst of energy that blew the Zweihander out of Raven's hands, sending it clattering to the floor and leaving both combatants unarmed.

Raven's anger didn't cease, however. It boiled up inside her, a burning sensation that quickly became a physical pain. Raven grabbed the paladin by the throat, her hand glowing with a sickly off-white hue. The paladin coughed and choked, squirming in a vain attempt to get free as Raven sucked his very life force away. Within seconds, the paladin's struggling faded into nothing, and Raven dropped the hollow corpse that remained, panting with exertion. Oscar coughed weakly, and Raven rushes to his side, kneeling down next to where his limp form was lying, slumped against a wall.

"Well, here we are again, at the end of my life..." Oscar wheezed, "At least I had a while longer to spend than I thought. And what better way to have spent it, eh?" Raven choked out a sob. She couldn't do this, not again. Especially not now, with her Darksign back - if Oscar died, she doubted she'd make it a single hour before going hollow.

"No!" Raven sobbed, grasping Oscar's hand, "I won't lose you. I can't!"

"I'm done for, I'm afraid," Oscar wheezed, just as he had back at the asylum, "Thank you for... for everything." Raven screamed in rage as the light in Oscar's eyes faded. There was no dissolution of body into souls, indicating an undead's impending revival. Oscar simply ceased to exist. Raven sobbed again, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"YOU PROMISED!" she screamed, raging at the unseen voice which had advised her when she had taken up the Zweihander, "You promised I could save him!"

_"What makes you think it's too late?" _the voice asked with a smug tone. Raven saw a flash of a vision - the red sprite that she had seen the now-dead paladin tuck away. Somehow, Raven realized what it was. The rite of kindling. A powerful artifact sought after by the Way of White, able to massively increase the amount of Estus that a bonfire could provide - or theoretically, powerful enough to bring back the dead. Raven sprinted back to the corpse of the paladin, searching it desperately for the rite that he had hidden away on his body. Raven could barely see through her tear-filled eyes, but eventually she managed to find it, rushing back to Oscar. She held the rite in front of him, and crushed it, willing it forwards into his body. The red mist drifted into Oscar promisingly, and Raven waited for him to open his eyes, to draw breath again. Nothing happened. The red mist was absorbed by him, and then it was gone. Raven screamed, pulling Oscar's body to her chest in desperation. If nothing could save him, there wasn't anything that could be done to save her, either. Already she felt calm, distant from the world. Raven was dimly aware of sitting down next to Oscar, waiting for the end.

"Raven?" a voice asked, cutting through her stupor. Oscar's voice. Raven blinked away the haze from her eyes, and saw him kneeling beside her, just as she had knelt beside him before he had died. Immediately, she jumped up and hugged him. Their lips met, and this time, they didn't regret where their desires led them.

AN: Wow, that was a hard chapter to write. Leave a review about anything, questions, comments, plot holes that you'd like to point out, etc. This branch is set and I'm going to carry it out to the end, but feel free to tell me what sort of branch you'd like to see next - complete in-Lordran from chapter 5, Oscar death here, whatever. I have plenty of interesting ideas for plenty of different stuff using this character, and I'm going to publish it all at one point or another. Stay tuned for a potential Tarkus vs. Kirk in the next chapter.


	12. Chapter 12: Sewer Scramble

AN: The Depths won't have the same layout - Laurentius and the butchers will be towards the Blighttown entrance side of things, and Kirk will show up a lot sooner. I tried to set it up to be more enjoyable and linear for the sake of storytelling. Basically the entire chapter is supposed to be a dynamic fight of high tier dark souls style combat, worrying about true combos, kill confirms, etc., between Tarkus and Kirk that moves throughout the Depths. Also, in case you guys haven't noticed, I'm largely trying to avoid the concept of phantoms - I've always viewed it as more of a game mechanic than an actual lore element. As such, Kirk will be here in the flesh. However, that doesn't mean that phantoms don't exist in this lore set - the golden eye orb should be proof of that. I'm just trying to use phantoms less and get more in the flesh action. One final note, I'm calling right here at the beginning. This is going to be the single longest fight scene, and potentially the longest chapter in general, in the entire story. Please review and tell me if it starts feeling cumbersome. Enjoy!

Chapter Twelve: Sewer Scramble

Tarkus trudged forwards through the disgusting muck of the burg sewers. He was getting frustrated at the circuitous design of the place, and he hadn't encountered much of anything just yet. Sure, there had been the occasional rat, one or two clusters of hollows, even a few sentient piles of goo - but it had all been winding, looping tunnel after winding, looping tunnel, all filled with so much moist sewage that Tarkus was beginning to worry that his armor would rust.

"Where the hell could she have wound up that I have to go through this shit just to figure out where she is, never mind anything about getting her back?" Tarkus grumbled aloud as his frustration with these godforsaken sewers grew by the minute. If he didn't uncover some evidence that he was making progress soon, he was going to snap a homeward bone back to Firelink and try to find another way into the Blighttown ruins.

"Lose someone, did we? A shame. I feel you, you know? I'm on the verge of finding myself in the exact same predicament, only... far more permanent..." Tarkus froze as the honeyed voice drifted through the sewers to reach his ears. It somehow seemed both friendly and malicious at the same time - never a good sign. Those types of voices always belonged to the most dangerous of foes. Tarkus recalled a certain golden knight from Carim boasting a similar voice, and he had gotten far too lucky during that encounter. Tarkus slowly looked up, towards the source of the voice, and, for the first time since he had set off to find Raven and her mass of followers, felt true fear. The figure that stood before him had made it into most history books based on his pure infamy - a figure dressed in dark armor, with thorns sprouting out of every bit of the attire. The man he now faced, sure to become his opponent in a few moments' time, was none other than the Darkwraith Kirk, Knight of Thorns.

"Oh, you recognize me? Then I'm sure you know what's about to happen. Terribly sorry about that. It's nothing personal, you see. Just... for lack of a better word, well, business." Kirk chuckled ominously, drawing a barbed straight sword and spiked shield. Tarkus drew his own greatsword and black iron greatshield from his back, falling into a combat stance as Kirk charged him. Tarkus planted his shield in the ground just as Kirk reached him, deflecting Kirk's opening strike, before swiping with his greatsword. Kirk nimbly rolled backwards from the swipe, backpedaling as he realized just how much of a threat to his health the greatsword was. Kirk was by no means giving up, however, as he was spacing himself so that he was just out of reach of Tarkus' massive blade. Tarkus took a few quick steps into a long thrust, aimed squarely at Kirk's chest, which the knight of thorns deftly sidestepped, spinning into a horizontal slash at Tarkus' neck. Tarkus brought his shield up quickly, spinning his body so that it deflected the blow sideways, before taking another wide swipe with his greatsword. Kirk promptly rolled under the blade, depositing himself squarely behind Tarkus. Kirk began a series of deft, rapid attacks, each one striking at an area which Tarkus' greatshield didn't quite protect, forcing the black iron knight to twist and turn in a very exhausting manner in order to defend each strike in turn. However, Kirk was thinking more strategically than Tarkus by far - the fifth attack was a feint, a thrust that was never intended to hit Tarkus, but which came close enough that it forced Tarkus to block it, just in case. Kirk then spun into his sixth strike, a slash from the opposite direction that Tarkus had no hope of getting his shield to. Tarkus made a split second decision, rolling backwards and reducing what would have been a fatal blow to a glancing strike against the black iron knight's right pauldron, which did nothing beyond scratch the sturdy metal. Kirk tried to follow up on his advantage with a dashing attack to the spot where Tarkus came to his feet, but Tarkus responded more quickly, raising his greatsword in an upwards slash and forcing Kirk to dive to the side, lest he be cleaved in two.

Kirk's own dive sent him into a roll around a corner, and it became Tarkus' turn to press the advantage. He took it immediately, rushing forwards with his shield, aiming to shove Kirk off balance and guarantee a hit with his greatsword. Kirk responded quickly with a nimble sidestep, allowing Tarkus to barrel past him and giving him a window to strike at Tarkus' undefended back. Tarkus realized what had happened instantly, and ducked into another roll as Kirk attempted to exploit the opportunity with a slash from left to right. Kirk sprinted after him once again, bracing himself to sidestep another rolling attack, but nothing came. Kirk dashed at Tarkus and lunged with a thrust attack that should have slipped right through Tarkus' armor plating. Tarkus, however, sidestepped the thrust, allowing Kirk to stumble past him before swiping at the already off-balance Knight of Thorns. Kirk allowed himself to drop to the ground in a roll, causing Tarkus' swipe to meet open air. However, Kirk was out of space to maneuver. As he came to his feet, he found his back placed against a very solidly made sewer grate. It would seem that the pair had reached a dead end. Tarkus grinned as a look of panic manifested on Kirk's face, despite his mask. Kirk quickly glanced around, first left and then right, for a method to escape. Tarkus chuckled at Kirk's panic, but then swore as Kirk spun and dashed towards a small maintenance door cut into the wall. That hallway was too narrow for Tarkus to swing his greatsword inside, so he had only one option: Tarkus charged into the hallway with his shield in front of him, both completely blocking his vision and also preventing Kirk from attacking him in any way. Tarkus charged forwards, trying to catch Kirk in his charge and pin the Knight of Thorns to a wall, but he realized his mistake too late as he felt his shield slam into a dead end and stick fast, watching helplessly as Kirk approached him from an intersecting hallway.

"You seem to have gotten yourself in a bit of a pickle, there," Kirk commented, chuckling as he advanced towards the vulnerable black iron knight. Kirk spun his body forwards, bringing his barbed straight sword up into a thrust aimed squarely at Tarkus' neck, one of the few places that his armor wouldn't save him. Tarkus quickly dropped his greatsword to the ground and yanked his arm out of the straps on his greatshield, spinning and allowing the thrust to pass him by.

"Nothing I can't improvise my way out of," Tarkus commented, as he grabbed Kirk's wrist with his left hand and spun again, digging his elbow into Kirk's own and forcing the Knight of Thorns to drop his blade, which Tarkus grabbed out of the air with his waiting right palm, bringing the blade around in an overhead slash at Kirk. Kirk pressed himself to the wall of the narrow maintenance hallway, allowing Tarkus' swing to pass right by. Kirk brought a knee up into Tarkus' wrist, pinning it against the wall and grabbing his barbed straight sword out of the black iron knight's grip, before reorienting the blade and bringing it into a forwards lunge. Tarkus reacted with lightning speed, catching the blade from both sides with his gauntlets, holding the attack fast. The black iron knight brought his foot up into a high kick which caught his opponent in the chest, the power of the move sending the knight of thorns crashing to the ground. Kirk pulled himself to his feet, backpedaling warily and raising his shield as a precaution.

"Like that's going to do anything against someone my size," Tarkus growled as he rushed forwards. Kirk desperately raised his shield, which did in fact deflect Tarkus' lunging attack with thr barbed sword, but it completely failed to aid the knight of thorns as Tarkus spun his momentum, slamming his shoulder into Kirk and shoving him backwards. Tarkus pressed the advantage, using his momentum to force Kirk backwards several feet. The two spilled out of the service tunnel and back into the larger sewer passages, stumbling in opposite directions. A trio of rats squealed, noticing the pair in combat as potential victims, and rushed forwards. Tarkus skewered one quickly, while a second fell to a heavy slam of Kirk's barbed shield. The third rat was deflected by the corpse of Kirk's kill, flying towards Tarkus, who skewered it as well. The result was a barbed straight sword with two giant rat corpses skewered on it, destroying the blade's balance and covering its edge.

"Well, that's certainly a bother, isn't it?" Kirk's honeyed voice drawled. Tarkus chuckled, tossing the sword aside with a fleshy splat. The pair stared each other down for a brief moment, before Tarkus turned and sprinted towards the dead end from which the rats had come forth - he had noticed a corpse which still bore a weapon lying face down in the sewage, covered with hundreds of various rat-induced wounds. Tarkus wasn't interested in the corpse at present, but rather its armament. Tarkus snatches the weapon up, noting that it was a great axe whose blade was still gleaming and sharp, not damaged in the slightest by its time in the muck which the black iron knight now waded through.

Tarkus chuckled as he whirled on Kirk, raising the massive axe in a menacing manner. Kirk, in turn, raised his own shield and freshly de-ratted sword, his posture radiating determination and defiance. Tarkus charged again, swinging the great axe over his head to slam it downwards at Kirk with a single hand. Kirk sidestepped nimbly, but Tarkus was more than prepared. As the axe slammed into the ground, Tarkus shifted his momentum and pivoted, spinning into an uppercut towards Kirk's new position. The knight of thorns swore as he couldn't react fast enough, and so Tarkus' uppercut caught his shin mid-roll and interrupted the motion, sending Kirk sprawling. Tarkus chuckled as he noted the not insignificant amount of blood which now coated the blade of the great axe - the massive hunk of iron had sheared clean through Kirk's armor. Tarkus rushed forwards, trying to exploit the opening in Kirk's normally steadfast guard, but Kirk deftly rolled to the side as Tarkus slammed the great axe down. Kirk swore again as he put weight on his injured leg, and stumbled away from Tarkus as he took a large gulp from his Estus flask, regaining his balance and turning to face Tarkus warily. Tarkus once again charged Kirk, but this time the Knight of Thorns was more than ready for the capability of his weapon. Kirk sidestepped Tarkus' swipe, but this time immediately spun himself into motion, attempting to get a hit on Tarkus' relatively unarmored neck. Tarkus managed to duck forwards, but overbalanced, causing himself to stumble and nearly fall. Kirk charged in for a follow up thrust attack, which Tarkus was forced to roll away from. Kirk sprinted at Tarkus again, trying to keep pushing the Black Iron knight backwards. However, Tarkus brought his great axe up and shouted in determination, charging right into Kirk's attack and bringing the attack into a brutal uppercut, forcing Kirk to stop his attack attempt and roll out of the way, even so barely avoiding the sudden onslaught. Tarkus spun in the middle of his motion, slamming the axe back down towards Kirk, who brought his shield up in a desperate attempt to block the blow with the knowledge that he wouldn't be able to dodge again in time. The massive axe, with Tarkus' brutal strength behind it, slammed down on the shield and sheared in clean in two, sending both halves of the defensive instrument flying off to the side. However, the shield did manage to do it's job, as Tarkus' heavy swing was deflected sideways. Kirk staggered backwards from the force of the blow, taking a moment to regain his footing. Then, noting the severe disadvantage which he now bore, Kirk turn and ran.

Tarkus watched as the Knight of Thorns, one of the most fearsome enemies which had ever been described to him, sprinted away in panic before his eyes. Tarkus' shock gave Kirk a considerable head start, before Tarkus realized that he had the opportunity to do that which no one else could - save his companions, who were now scattered across Lordran, or potentially even the whole planet. The Black Iron knight wasn't about to let the opportunity slip through his fingers, and, bracing himself, sprinted after Kirk. Fortunately, Tarkus could still hear Kirk's clumsy, panicked splashing up ahead, giving him a clear path to follow. Tarkus noted one oddity as he ran - the figure of a person in pain, turned to an odd form of crystallized stone, resembling a person in pain. Tarkus ignored the strange omen, sprinting after Kirk, whose splashing had oddly stopped.

Two corners later, the Black Iron knight discovered why. He found the Knight of Thorns locked in combat with 8 separate frog-like creatures with oversized, glowing orange eyes. The corridor was filled with a dark mist which radiated evil - even Kirk himself was doing his best to stay out of the stuff.

"Well, what sort of honorable knight would I be if I let these creatures interrupt our duel?" Tarkus muttered to himself, before charging into the fray, chopping one in half, while careful to avoid the mist. Kirk dodged past another creature which jumped, spewing more fog across the tunnel, which spilled right onto Tarkus. The Black Iron knight felt a horrible sensation of utter _wrongness_ at touching the fog, and he quickly dispatched the jumping monster before charging out of the fog. Kirk took a swipe at him as he did, attempting to use the commotion of other enemies to dispatch his true target. Tarkus, however, yanked one of the monsters up off of the ground and used it as a fleshy shield, allowing Kirk's swipe to kill it without harming Tarkus. Tarkus shoved forwards, throwing Kirk off balance using the corpse and shoving him into some of the evil fog. Kirk immediately rolled further backwards, moving out of the fog again before it had a chance to harm him. Upon rising, Kirk slashed the head off of another of the strange creatures. Tarkus slammed his axe down on another, being jumped by the remaining three simultaneously. Tarkus rolled under the monsters and deposited himself behind them. He killed another with another overhead great axe slam, before slamming the axe, still attached to the body of one of the creatures, sidways. The move swept the other two into a wall, and Tarkus heard two distinct, satisfying crunches as they impacted. Tarkus whirled towards Kirk, only to find him disappearing into yet another side tunnel - slightly larger than the last, thankfully. Additionally, this one was actually lower than the surrounding sewers, resulting in an even deeper sludge mixture.

"Really, who would have thought that the infamous Knight of Thorns would be such a coward?" Tarkus wondered aloud before resuming the chase, hoping that he'd have room to swing his newfound weapon inside the tunnel. However, it never actually came down to that. Tarkus was suddenly body slammed from the side, and he stumbled backwards, tripping over a small ledge and dropping through a cutout in the floor, landing hard on the ground some ten feet below. The Black Iron knight watched as Kirk's dark figure leaped through the hole himself, bringing his sword down in a deadly plunging attack. Tarkus managed to roll out of the way of the deadly slam, and spun to his feet, swiping hastily with his great axe. Kirk simply ducked under the hasty swing, before lunging towards Tarkus as he rose. Tarkus dropped his shoulder plate to match the position of Kirk's faceplate, while deflecting the thorned knight's sword with his left bracer. Kirk's lunge was suddenly turned against him as the Knight of Thorns' head met Tarkus' far more armored shoulder, causing Kirk to stumble backwards from the sudden impact. Kirk, to his credit, regained his bearing impressively quickly, and managed to avoid being caught in Tarkus' follow up slam, diving into a combat roll to one side. Kirk's roll deposited him near a ledge, to which another corpse was desperately clinging, with a red shield, bearing a spider design on it, placed on the corpse's back. Kirk snatched up the shield, placing it on his arm to replace the one that Tarkus had shattered, and turned to face Tarkus in defiance once more. Tarkus charged Kirk, axe raised, and brought it down heavily towards Kirk, who made no attempt to dodge.

_I have him now,_ Tarkus thought with satisfaction, as the great axe descended, and Kirk remained still far too long. Then, Kirk's reasoning behind neglecting to dodge the attack became obvious, as the Knight of Thorns brought his new shield up, dexterously deflecting Tarkus' attack and leaving the Black Iron knight wide open.

_Shit, _Tarkus thought, watching the tip of Kirk's sword as it was brought forward in a thrust to slam into his chest. His armor didn't protect him from such a directed, well aimed blow, and Tarkus felt the horrible pain of being ripped apart as the barbs of Kirk's straight sword shredded his skin and internals. A fresh wave of pain came as Kirk slid the sword out, those same barbs ripping the wound open even wider. Through the pain, Tarkus managed to grab his estus flask, taking a swig to heal the wound back to functioning even as Kirk kicked him off of his straight sword. By the time Tarkus hit the ground, his head was clear enough to function again, although he dropped his Estus Flask, empty from attempting to heal such a drastic wound, off of the ledge. Tarkus immediately rolled off the ledge after it, not intending to let a perfectly good Estus flask go to waste, even if it was empty at present. However, halfway through his fall, Tarkus caught sight of the largest rat that he had ever seen - easily ten times his own size. The Black Iron knight twisted quickly in the air, slamming his great axe down onto the monstrosity. The great axe chopped deep into the rat's head, digging in and sticking. Tarkus swore as he pulled at it and it held fast. The Black Iron knight saw Kirk, jumping at him for yet another plunging attack. Tarkus abandoned his great axe, rolling backwards and out of reach of Kirk's drop. The giant rat lunged forwards, trying to get at Tarkus and prevent him from escaping, which deposited it immediately underneath Kirk's plunging attack. The Knight of Thorns slammed into the rat, which fell limp from the impact. It seemed that the combined damage of both plunging attacks had managed to kill it. Tarkus located and snatched up his Estus Flask as the rat dissolved into souls. Tarkus charged forwards, shoulder bashing Kirk away to give him a window to pick up the great axe, which clattered to the ground as the rat dissolved.

"Such a shame that we're locked in combat like we are," Kirk commented at the irony, "for it seems we make an excellent team anyways!" Tarkus chuckled at the accuracy of the quote, but didn't let it go to heart, instead taking a swing at Kirk once again. Kirk blocked the stroke with his shield, and Tarkus' arm bounced at the recoil. Tarkus rolled backwards, noting his proximity to a close ramp. Kirk apparently noted it as well, as the Knight of Thorns charged forwards with a yell, apparently attempting to shove Tarkus down it. Tarkus, however, was ready for the gesture, and sidestepped, tripping Kirk on his way past. The Knight of Thorns lost his footing and fell onto the ramp, bouncing and rolling down it. Tarkus jumped after him, sliding down on his feet. Tarkus noted a drop-off down below, and crouched, preparing to leap. Kirk bounced one final time, seeming to hang in the air over the gap, just as Tarkus made his jump. The two knights sailed across the chasm in tandem, Tarkus above, and Kirk below. However, Kirk didn't have enough altitude to clear the gap. Tarkus did. Kirk slammed into the wall, grunting before dropping into the chasm. Tarkus landed in a clumsy roll on the ground above, coming to a stop and panting, pausing to analyze his surroundings. He noticed that he was standing on some sort of balcony or landing; there was a railing, with stairs leading down to a lower wooden platform. About ten hollows, wielding a variety of weapons from broken swords to torches, stood on the platform, moaning and waiting for prey. Further below that, Tarkus noted a massive butcher with a sack over his... her? head? Tarkus couldn't tell. Based on the size of that cleaver, though, as well as the number of dogs and hollows surrounding the butcher, the Black Iron knight knew that he would have to approach this very carefully.

* * *

Kirk slammed into the ground shoulder-first, the impact sending a massive spike of pain through his body. The Knight of Thorns screamed a curse as the intense pain shot through him. Kirk found that he couldn't even bring himself to stand up for several seconds through the pain. When he finally gathered the strength to push himself up off of the ground, he realized that he had a very serious problem; his right arm, the side which had suffered the impact, wouldn't move. Kirk quickly scrambled for his Estus, only to find the flask shattered completely by some impact or another. Damn. He checked for humanity sprites next. None of those, of course; he had just finished offering his entire stash to his lady. He almost screamed again at the thought - not in pain, this time, but in frustration. Kirk had to have offered the woman several thousand humanities by now, and she never seemed to get any better. But back to the matter at hand, Kirk had a dislocated shoulder and absolutely no healing items. At all. This... this was going to hurt. Kirk forced himself to his feet using only his left arm, and charged the wall that he had fallen next to, slamming his shoulder into it. A massive flare of pain flooded Kirk's body, far worse than even that of the original dislocation. But after a few seconds, the pain faded, and Kirk found himself able to use his arm again. The Knight of Thorns quickly snatched up his barbed straight sword, which he had dropped, and assessed his surroundings more thoroughly. He was in a narrow corridor which had a grate on one end and an opening on the other side which seemed to lead onto some sort of balcony. Kirk moved warily out onto it, noting that it opened out onto a massive cavernous area where all the sewage was draining into. Kirk noticed a few doors - one seeming to lead deeper, while another lead to stairs that came up to Kirk's very balcony, also intersecting with another room, presumably the one that his quarry had jumped across to. Kirk saw no way down from where he was asides from jumping, and the fall was definitely lethal. Kirk looked around for something to cushion his fall, and his eyes settled on a pack of large rats. Kirk rushed them, slicing them to bits easily. However, as he was finishing, he was suddenly blown backwards by a soul spear to the shoulder.

The Knight of Thorns slid backwards, managing to keep his feet as he twisted to face the caster - one of the paledrake's channelers. Kirk growled in anger, and rushed the channeler just as the six-eyed abomination fired off another soul spear. Kirk kicked himself into a slide, slipping under the blue beam while continuing to close the distance, before kicking himself to his feet and body slamming the channeler, the thorns on his armor digging into the caster's chest. However, before he could bring his sword around for a swing, the channeler teleported away. Damn, these things were annoying to fight. Kirk scanned back and forth, waiting for the channeler to appear. Sure enough, the thing materialized a good fifty feet down the balcony - way too much distance for Kirk to close before the six-eyed caster had pelted him with fifteen soul spears. Kirk sighed in resignation, raising his shield and sprinting towards the nuisance. Three soul spears pelted Kirk's shield, part of the matter punching through and burning at him, before he managed to get into sword range. Kirk lunged forwards, aiming his sword to impale the channeler right through the neck, and found his sword deflected neatly by the channeler's surprisingly nimble trident, just as the thing teleported away _again._

"Oh, screw this," Kirk muttered as the bastard appeared again, this time much closer to him - it had run out of balcony. Kirk rushed the channeler again, not even bothering with the shield this time. Instead, he took a wrestler's stance as he got close, lunging forwards and grabbing the channeler in a loose hold. The Knight of Thorns' momentum carried them both over the balcony railing, and Kirk yanked his sword out of it's sheath as they fell, stabbing the channeler right through the face before it had a chance to get away. Kirk felt a moment of panic that he had just destroyed his cushioning for the fall, but then calmed again as he realized that the channeler hadn't disintegrated into souls like most of the larger creatures in this land would upon death. Kirk pushed himself off of the Channeler's corpse just before it hit the ground, cancelling out some of his downwards momentum, before landing squarely on the channeler's squishy body and throwing himself into a roll. The impact stung, but Kirk could tell that nothing was broken or sprained - he'd still be able to fight when his prey came through this way. Kirk noted that the channeler's trident hadn't broken on the way down and grinned - that thing might be handy to have down the road. He stuffed it into his box just as the white fog covering one of the doorways to the pit rippled.

* * *

Tarkus casually tossed an alluring skull into the midst of the hollows, causing them to rush towards the site of impact, all bunching together. As an unexpected bonus, the three dogs in the room wanted in on the action as well. Tarkus charged forwards and sliced cleanly through all of them with a single strike of his greataxe. There was one problem handled. Now it was only the butcher he had to face. Tarkus rushed at the the monster, who yelled a slurred battle cry - so it was a woman, judging by the voice. Tarkus jumped into a roll, avoiding the butcher's initial attack, before coming up with a swipe from his greataxe. The butcher, impressively, survived the strike, but stumbled forwards from the impact. An overhead slam from the axe finished the job, causing the butcher to drop to the ground, limp. He left the cleaver that she had been wielding - it was an inferior weapon to the greataxe which he held now. Tarkus moved on, wading through some deep water and hacking through a hollow and two more dogs until he came to a new hallway. One end had a door with stairs leading up, the other with stairs leading downwards. Tarkus moved towards the descending end, and was three steps down when he heard a weak voice call out.

"Someone! A-anyone! Over here! Please, you have to help me!" The Black Iron Knight hesitated at the desperate voice, then decided against the risk of a trap, opting to continue down the stairs towards finding out what the hell had happened to Raven. He made it all of two more steps before his conscience got the better of him - using that very woman, bless her kind heart, as the example. Tarkus growled in frustration and turned around, going back for the man. As he got close to the door leading upwards, a second butcher dropped down from the rafters with a plunging attack, and landed a glancing blow on Tarkus' shoulder. Tarkus roared in fury and cleaved the butcher neatly in two with a massive vertical chop, before lowering his axe and stepping up into the room beyond the door. There was a pile of barrels in one corner, and a man, dressed in the tattered robes of a pyromancer, was tied up and stuffed into one of them. Tarkus hastily smashed apart the barrels trapping the man with the blunt end of his greataxe, before using it to carefully cut the man loose.

"Th-thank you! I would have been her supper without you. Being eaten alive... I shudder to think. I'm Laurentius, of the Great Swamp. I'm forever in your debt," the man said, greatful.

"Glad to have you, man," Tarkus said, patting his newfound companion on the back, "You know the way back to Firelink Shrine?"

"Sure, yeah," Laurentius replied, nodding.

"Most of the enemies on the way are already dealt with. I'll meet you there," Tarkus told him, and the pyromancer grinned, hurrying off in the direction from which Tarkus had come. Tarkus wished he could have had the pyromancer's help, but he didn't want to risk the life of such an innocent man. Tarkus jogged down the stairs, determined to catch Kirk and take him down for good. That was, until he came to the fog gate.

This was a problem. The last time Tarkus had seen one of these, he had nearly gotten ripped apart by a goat-like chaos demon. There was no way to predict what nightmare was behind this one. And yet, it had to be done. Steeling himself, Tarkus readied his greataxe and stepped through. The enemy waiting for them on the other side was none other than the man he had been chasing throughout the sewers. Kirk, Knight of Thorns, raised his weapons in a final stand. Then, Tarkus noticed the other one. A small head, peeking up out of a chasm at the far end of the large room, pulled itself up onto the knights' level, and in doing so, revealed it's body. It was a massive, distorted dragon, with a tiny head and a mouth on it's stomach, far too small wings, and six short, stumpy legs.

Both knights glanced at the dragon, before meeting each other's eyes, and nodded simultaneously. Raising their weapons, they rushed the monstrosity simultaneously. The dragon lifted it's stomach-mouth up off of the ground as they approached, preparing to slam it back downwards. The two knights split off to either side of the dragon, Tarkus to the right and Kirk to the left. The gaping maw of the dragon slammed downwards, finding nothing under it to chew on, and the knights swung sword and greataxe to strike the beast from both flanks simultaneously. The dragon rushed forwards, and both knights recognized the danger of it's stomps, backing off.

"Why do you do this?" Tarkus asked Kirk as they rushed after the dragon, "I can tell that it isn't for greed. You're too honorable for that. A greedy man would have helped this creature kill me and then finished it off."

"Ah, you've caught me. It's easier to show than to explain, I'm afraid. Would you like me to do the former, or attempt the latter?" Kirk replied as the dragon stopped. Both knights hacked once at the dragon's haunches, before it's tail swiped back and forth across the ground, forcing them both to roll out of the way, before hacking again. The dragon slowly spun, raising it's front half once again.

"How close is the former to the second bell of awakening?" Tarkus asked, hacking at the dragon again.

"Oh, is that where you're go-AH!" Kirk's response was cut off as the dragon charged again, the distraction of conversation having stalled his retreat from the danger zone too long. Tarkus uttered a curse, rushing towards the dragon in an attempt to help Kirk, who stumbled to his feet behind the dragon, which raised it's tail to strike the Knight of Thorns once again. Tarkus could tell that Kirk was too dazed do dodge. He also knew that he wasn't going to make it.

But his greataxe might.

With all of the strength he could muster, Tarkus heaved the greataxe forwards and flung it, spinning end over end, towards the base of the tail. The tail swept towards Kirk, and the axe hit home. The tail, suddenly not anchored to the dragon anymore, flew out past Kirk and towards Tarkus himself while it disintegrated into souls. However, one spinning mass, a famed dragon weapon, another greataxe, was left behind - and it was hurtling straight towards Tarkus. Tarkus spun to the side to avoid the impact of the axe head, and grabbed the haft out of the air. The massive thing yanked him off of his feet - it was _heavy, _easily twice the weight of the one that he had just thrown. It was, shockingly, too heavy for him to swing with one hand. Tarkus placed his other on the haft of the massive weapon, and rushed to Kirk's side, steadying the Knight of Thorns.

"You... you saved me. You actually..." Kirk wavered. He was hurt - badly. Tarkus would have to finish this on his own.

"Get yourself to safety," Tarkus told Kirk firmly, not wanting to risk the Knight of Thorns charging in again despite his wounds, "I'll finish this out. Then, we'd better talk." Kirk nodded, stumbling away from the dragon, and Tarkus raised his new weapon with determination, yelling in defiance as he charged the dragon with the remnants of its own tail. The gaping dragon swiped at Tarkus with it's forelegs, trying to grab him, but Tarkus easily chopped them off as they swung at him, one after the other. Damn, but this axe was deadly. The dragon collapsed forwards, no longer able to support its front half, and Tarkus slammed the axe downwards on it's small head, decapitating it. The deformed dragon dissolved into souls, leaving behind a humanity sprite, and a key. Tarkus slipped the key into a satchel, and grabbed the humanity sprite, running it over to Kirk.

"Here," Tarkus told the Knight of Thorns, proffering the humanity. Kirk accepted it, crushing the black sprite in his hand. He immediately perked up, his breathing normalizing.

"Now. I want you to tell me where you want to take me," Tarkus told Kirk, looking into his eyes.

"Quelaag's domain. The second bell. It's very close by," Kirk replied, and Tarkus nodded.

"Show me," Tarkus said, standing. The pair set out towards Blighttown.

AN: Whew, that was hard to write. I went through about ten different choreographies for the first half of the fight before I finally settled on this one. Hope it was worth the wait - I had to rewrite this chapter so many times that it isn't even funny. Please leave a review. Next chapter: More Rock and Onion darkwraith drama. Things aren't looking so great for the city of Catarina right now.


	13. Chapter 13: Death and Glory

AN: Oh, the amount of pain I went through to write this chapter. I had it written within a week of my last release, read over it to check for mistakes, decided that it was utter crap, scrapped it, and started over. That normally happens once or twice during my writing process, so I didn't think anything of it at the time. And then it happened again. And again. 17 times in a row, over and over until I finally just gave up for nearly an entire month. Then I came back to the chapter, and tried a few more times. Four more drafts went in the bin, I remembered why I had given up the first time, and I set it down again. Now, over the last few days, I've had absolutely nothing else to do pending new batteries for my wireless mouse, and I decided to fight through the misery of trying to get this damned thing written and finally give my readers some content. I make it a point to prioritize quality over quantity, but these last few months I've given you neither, and stumbled across a new saying - "Don't let perfect become the enemy of good enough." And so, I've told myself to publish the first iteration of this chapter that I come up with (spellchecked, of course, but not revised asides from grammar) before people forget that this thing exists.

Chapter Thirteen: Death and Glory

Havel panted as he slammed his dragon tooth into yet another Darkwraith, crushing it. Somewhere nearby, Siegmeyer was engaged with another of the monsters. They had been rushing about the city for several days now, trying to keep up with the enemies that were popping up everywhere. The had killed hundreds of the things, and had managed to get ahead of the tide for the most part, managing to find and kill the Darkwraiths as fast as they appeared. Even so, they were only two men, and could only do so much. As a result, the death toll on the city of Catarina had been pushed well into the thousands. Havel had outlined a plan to Siegmeyer that involved rounding the city's population up into one group in one location, Catarina's central keep, so that they could be easily guarded by a smaller force - potentially as small as two men. Havel watched Siegmeyer deflect a darksword off of his shield before ramming his Zweihander through his opponent's gut, before yanking the blade free and kicking the corpse to the ground. The plan was working so far, as Siegmeyer and Havel were picking off the Darkwraiths that appeared to give the city time to pile into the central keep, a massive stone structure which stood just behind them.

In reality, though, the plan's only purpose was to give the Catarinans hope - the city was already lost. Havel and Siegmeyer had both experienced the power of the Darkwraiths firsthand, and both knights had witnessed the monstrosities materialize in the midst of crowds using their red eye orbs. The largest problem was the nature of the majority of their enemies as red phantoms rather than physical beings. As phantoms, the Darkwraiths couldn't truly be killed, and would keep invading again and again until one of them got lucky against Havel or Siegmeyer, and then they could easily overwhelm the remaining knight. It didn't help that both men had discovered their estus useless and their darksigns missing earlier in the day; death really would spell the end if it came. The king had sent riders out into the surrounding countryside carrying a desperate plea for help, but it would be days, if not weeks, until help arrived. The closest city to Catarina which maintained a fighting force was Astora - and Havel had heard rumors of troubles besieging that city as well. Not that it would make any difference; the majority of the onion knights of Catarina had already been slaughtered brutally at the hands of the wraiths, showing that they were capable of overwhelming entire armies through their unnatural abilities.

"We're backed into a corner, friend," Siegmeyer shouted as seven red phantoms stalked towards the pair. Havel grunted I'm agreement as he hefted his dragon tooth; this very well could be the end for both of them. A group of four was the most that Havel and Siegmeyer had managed to defeat - and that, only with quite a bit of luck.

"Even still, we shall stand strong in the face of this new challenge. We'll have both death and glory at the end of this day!" Siegmeyer shouted, charging into the fray with a defiant battle cry. Havel grinned, charging after him to cover the onion knight's back. Songs would be sung of what they were about to attempt, if indeed any were left alive to sing them. Siegmeyer swept his Zweihander around in a wide sweeping blow, not aimed at any darkwraiths in particular, but rather designed to force the group onto the back foot. Havel followed up his attack with a more targeted strike at the darkwraith in the center, which was stopped dead as the wraith extended its left hand, forming a sort of rippling in the air. The hand itself radiated a sickly, dark red aura, the signature color of the art of life drain. However, the darkwraith's supernatural shield didn't save it, as Siegmeyer slammed his pierce shield forwards, its wicked central spike taking the wraith through the neck. Siegmeyer immediately pulled back again as two other darkwraiths struck at the pair of knights. Havel firmly raised his greatshield, taking both attacks with relative ease, before bringing his dragon tooth around for another overhead slam. The pair of darkwraiths casually sidestepped his attack, before the one on the right casually blocked Siegmeyer's strike as well. The left darkwraith as well as a third wraith slashed at Havel, who, suffering from the recoil of his whiffed attack, was unable to raise his shield in time. The first strike glanced off of Havel's right pauldron harmlessly, but the second was better aimed, slamming into the left side of Havel's gorget and cracking it, causing splinters of stone to fly up into the air, as well as a few to dig into his neck. That hurt like hell, but Havel had no time to reach for his estus, instead heaving his greatshield around to block the two strikes that were aimed at Siegmeyer.

"My thanks, friend, but I fear this is still a losing battle. Whatever can we do to even the odds?" Siegmeyer wondered aloud, even as Havel blocked a third strike. Siegmeyer spun to slash at the two wraiths who had begun to circle around behind the pair of knights, searching for a backstab. He was right. Havel knew that six was far too many, even if they had managed a quick kill of the seventh wraith. Then, the most beautiful sound Havel had ever heard resounded from an unsound location, even as the blade of a draconic looking straight sword erupted from the chest of one of the darkwraiths in front of him. The sound was Solaire's voice.

"Even the odds? Why, I figure that an extra companion or two might be a step in the right direction," the warrior of sunlight announced with his jolly tone, as the darkwraith he had just backstabbed dropped to the ground, revealing Solaire standing in his iconic armor. Another figure, wearing a gambeson and sporting long, vibrant red hair leapt from a nearby rooftop, skewering a second wraith on a sturdy but rather plain spear.

"Now it's four against four," the newcomer stated, "seems like evened odds to me." The voice and mannerisms of the red-haired stranger reminded Havel strongly of Captain Ornstein, but that was impossible; he was the wrong height, standing slightly shorter than Havel himself, and Havel knew that Ornstein had had his armor with him during the disaster - not that it would fit a man of this size anyways.

"All right, split up. Each man pick a target and take it down," Havel ordered, charging towards his own darkwraith. Solaire, Siegmeyer, and the stranger each picked their own target and moved to the offensive as well. Havel pushed their battles to the periphery of his mind, focusing in on his own conflict. Havel lead with his shield, preparing to block the slash which he knew the darkwraith would throw out as the stone-clad knight closed the distance. The attack that came turned out to be a thrust instead, but Havel blocked it all the same, before heaving his club forwards into a deadly slam. His club was once again stopped dead in its tracks by the supernatural shield created by the dark energies of life drain, but Havel was ready for it. He twisted his body to slam his greatshield into the darkwraith's face, knocking the creature prone, before twisting again to bring his club down to crush it, hearing the satisfying crunch of its bones being crushed the powder, before turning to survey the battlefield and checking on his companions. He nearly missed the red-haired stranger as the man lunged forwards in an inhuman burst of speed, skewering his darkwraith nearly through the chest before it had time to react - an action incredibly reminiscent of one of Ornstein's signature moves. Havel was growing increasingly certain of the man's identity, as impossible as it might seem. Havel turned his attention to Solaire next, as the warrior of sunlight gracefully parried the darkwraith's sword, before ramming his blade right through the creature's neck. Last, there was Siegmeyer, who overtelegraphed a swipe with his Zweihander whilst readying his pierce shield. The instant that the massive sword was blocked, the onion knight slammed his pierce shield straight into the darkwraith's face, the spike passing cleanly through the right eye socket of the darkwraith's mask. The four defeated phantoms faded away in tandem, leaving only the four mismatched defenders standing outside the keep.

An eerie silence settled over the city - the party's breathing was the only noise to be heard. Even with every phantom down, not a single screech sounded to indicate the arrival of a new darkwraith. Havel was the first to break the silence with the click of his dragon tooth settling onto his armored shoulder, a noise which under normal circumstances would be barely audible, but was now nearly deafening. The rock-clad warrior looked squarely at the newcomer, now convinced of his identity based on the posture the man held out of combat.

"So, Ornstein," Havel said pointedly, "What's your story? I seem to remember you measuring in at just under thirteen feet. Shrinking in your old age?" Ornstein himself let out a chuckle, confirming Havel's suspicions, as Solaire gasped simply at the audacity of the statement whilst Siegmeyer gaped in shock. Clearly, the knight of Catarina had not recognized the dragonslayer at all.

"That's quite the long story. I'll be happy to tell it, but not now," Ornstein replied, readying his spear again as a grinding screech indicated, finally, the arrival of another darkwraith. Havel had begun to worry that the phantoms had devised a method of masking the sound they created upon materializing. The four sprinted towards the source of the sound, trying to cut the wraith off before it gained access to the crowd inside the keep. Their worry grew as they moved, hearing more and more sounds of invasions in the direction they were headed. As the group arrived, they were met with a sight of horror; the legendary Kirk, Knight of Thorns, was standing ready, overseeing the amassing of a true army of darkwraiths. Over two dozen had already appeared, and they didn't seem to be stopping any time soon.

"This appears to be the end after all, friend," Havel said grimly to Siegmeyer, "But I'm glad to die beside my brothers." Havel raised his dragon tooth and greatshield determinedly, and along with his three fellows, rushed the amassing army.

* * *

Ornstein still hadn't gotten used to his smaller size and lack of powers. Even with a substitute spear, which served its purpose quite well, all things considered, not towering over his opponents, and, in fact, having many of them tower over him by so great a factor, was incredibly disorienting. Add that to the loss of his lightning abilities, and his combat capacity was effectively halved or more. Ornstein had, however, gained even more maneuverability and speed with his smaller stature. He was now able to effectively roll out of the way of certain attacks, and could perform his classic hit and run tactics to a greater degree than before, even if each individual strike had a tendency to do less damage.

He hadn't quite mastered that yet, either, and so he found himself struggling incredibly with even a single darkwraith now that his hand had been played, and the element of surprise lost. As a darksword swung towards his chest, Ornstein backstepped nimbly, before rushing forwards with his spear, only to find it stopped firmly by the wraith's unnatural shield. Ornstein had to quickly block the next strike on the haft of his spear, which left a noticeable nick where the darksword struck the handle. Fortunately, the dragonslayer was able to leverage the sword to the side and kick around his spear, causing the darkwraith to stumble and drop its sword, before Ornstein ran the monster through.

That single darkwraith, unfortunately, was the least of his worries. A group of three more appeared in front of him with the grating screech that he was sure would induce a panic attack in him should he ever hear it again, and Ornstein was forced onto the back foot once more. He backstepped out of the way of one strike, blocked a second on his spear, creating another nick, and thanked whatever god was watching over them that his gambeson was enough to stop the third. Ornstein stabbed at the wraith in the middle whilst backpedaling, and though the strike got blocked it gave him a bit of breathing room. The other two wraiths attacked at the same time, and their strikes bounced off each other, leaving Ornstein unharmed. It was a losing battle, however. Ornstein slashed his spear from left to right in an attempt to ward off his attackers, but the right darkwraith blocked the spear with his darksword instead of dodging, and the nicks in the haft finally added up. The spear snapped in half towards the middle, the business end flying off while Ornstein held onto the back end. Wonderful. Now he just had a stick - not even long enough to be used as a quarterstaff. Oh, how he missed his old spear. Ornstein danced backwards as the three darkwraiths, emboldened by the shattered spear Ornstein had been left with. Each of them swung several times, and Ornstein couldn't dodge all of the attacks. A few managed to hack through his gambeson, leaving him with a number of small cuts, each incredibly painful in the fashion of the darkwraiths. Even with the loss of his light soul fragment, he was still highly susceptible to the dark, it would seem. The dragonslayer ducked under one strike, before leaning left to avoid a second, and backstepping once more out of the reach of a third - only to find himself with his back to yet another darkwraith, who slashed at him from behind. The blow never landed, however, as a unique straight sword erupted from the chest of the wraith behind him. The standard darkwraith fell to reveal the phantom of Kirk, knight of thorns. Ornstein turned desperately to face the notorious darkwraith, but he knew he had lost. Then, the largest oddity of Ornstein's life occurred. Instead of cutting him down, Kirk turned to attack the four wraiths behind Ornstein, hacking them apart methodically. In seconds, the knight of thorns was the only phantom left standing. He then proceeded to pick up the two halves of Ornstein's shattered spear, sprinkle repair powder across them, and tossed it back to him, nodding. Ornstein was shocked as the knight of thorns turned away to hack through another crowd of darkwraiths, even as another wraith rushed towards Ornstein. Ornstein quickly overcame his shock, ducking under the darksword swipe and running the wraith through, before yanking his spear out.

* * *

Siegmeyer couldn't help but gawk as the knight of thorns, one of the most infamous and deadly darkwraiths in history, methodically hacked through the rest of the red phantoms in the courtyard. He, Solaire, and Havel each stood idle as the entirety of the darkwraith army swarmed around Kirk, unable to even touch him. Ornstein - Siegmeyer still couldn't wrap his head around that one - was still in the midst of the fighting, but didn't seem to be doing much besides picking off stragglers and taking a bit of the pressure off of Kirk. Within minutes, the entire army of nearly five score was reduced to rising red smoke, with the exception of Kirk. Ornstein leaned against his spear, panting and bleeding from numerous cuts across his body. Solaire rushed to his side, pulling out his sunlight talisman and muttering a prayer of healing. Many of Ornstein's cuts closed, and others were reduced from angry gashes to mere scratches or scars.

Kirk pulled out a bundle of cloth and tossed it to Ornstein, who nodded skeptically, before grabbing a black separation crystal and vanishing. Siegmeyer and Havel walked over to Ornstein curiously, as the dragonslayer opened the bundle. Inside was a large blue sphere, as well as a stack of several hundred paper slips which Siegmeyer recognized as indictments. For the first time since the beginning of this mess, they had a clear path to victory.

* * *

"Did they get the message?" Tarkus asked as Kirk faded back into existence beneath the second bell of awakening.

"I delivered the package. I don't know whether they understood or not," Kirk replied, "It was quite the mess I had to pull them out of. Something around fifty wraiths in one place. It was a bit of a challenge, even with their help."

"They're smart men. They'll figure it out. Was Raven with them?" Tarkus asked, still hopeful.

"No. She and the elite knight - Oscar, you said his name was - were missing, as well as the dragonslayer. There were four of them there, though. Solaire, Havel, and Siegmeyer, just as you described them, as well as a red-haired spearman you didn't mention. Must be someone they picked up along the way."

"Shame. We'll need to figure out some way to reach her," Tarkus said, "But for the moment, we're on the clock. We've got to unseal New Londo before they can invade, and they'll only be able to hold out for so long." With that, the black iron knight and the knight of thorns rose in tandem, jogging up the stairs and towards the drowned city.

AN: Phew, that felt good to finally get done. I'm so terribly sorry for making you guys wait this long. Feel free to yell at me in private messages if I don't publish the next chapter in a timely manner (within two weeks or so). Leave a review about whatever caught your eye, I'd love some criticism. And before you berate me, I know this wasn't my best work. Ok, go ahead and berate me now, I deserve it for leaving you guys hanging for so long.


	14. Chapter 14: Spirit of Salvation

AN: Really? A timely update? When's the last time THAT happened? I already know the answer is never. Not even once. I hope you'll forgive me for breaking the cycle for character transitions, but I'm getting towards the end of the displacement arc, and, well, I have to change things up a bit in order to get the story that I wanted. I had originally planned to include both a Kirk vs. Sif and Tarkus vs. 4 Kings in this chapter, but then I remembered plans I have for later. Instead there may or may not be a surprise waiting in the next chapter, depending on whether or not I decide it ruins a later reveal. Currently I'm leaning towards including it. But for now, as always, enjoy!

Chapter Fourteen: Spirit of Salvation

Tarkus and Kirk stood ready as three infested barbarians wielding large clubs stood down the tunnel from them. Kirk easily parried the first with his spider shield, while Tarkus took the second head on, hacking it in two with his dragon king greataxe before both stepped to face the third, which stood much further back. It made the fatal mistake of letting it's guard down to growl, and Tarkus immediately slammed his axe down on it's head, cleaving it in two vertically. The pair wordlessly nodded to each other before continuing forwards, emerging from the tunnel onto a cliff overlooking a deep canyon. Even the air here seemed healthier than the swamp that they had just emerged from, although the environment was no less hostile. The narrow footing forced the pair to carefully plant each foot as they crept towards a long wooden plank connecting the two sides of the canyon. As they reached it, Kirk being the lighter of the two men crossed first, being very careful and noting how significantly the thing bowed as he walked across. Tarkus proceeded to toss some of his gear across, including his greataxe and helmet, to reduce his weight. Kirk caught it with some difficulty, and Tarkus crossed as quickly as he could, trying to minimize the strain on the flimsy board. With both knights across safely, Tarkus slid his helmet on again and took up his greataxe as they moved towards a tower visible from this side of the rock wall - bearing the iconic architecture of New Londo. Kirk slid the key into the lock and the gate facing the valley swung open, allowing the knights to descend the stairs into the upper levels of New Londo.

It was impressive how well they had gotten to know each other in such a short time - neither of the knights needed speak even a single word in communication, moving flawlessly together as they methodically dispatched of the hollows near the entryway of the drowned city. As both knights finished, they crossed the bridge, Kirk smashing a pot to reveal a corpse bearing two transient curses as they continued on. He passed one on to Tarkus, who cast it on himself in tandem with Kirk, neither even slowing as the first of the ghosts revealed themselves. Kirk ducked under a swipe from the first's jagged blade before cutting the apparition in two, while Tarkus blocked his own opponent's incoming strike with the head of his greataxe before slamming his greataxe down on it, hacking it apart into mere mist. The pair continued through the drowned city, operating flawlessly as they navigated through ghost filled building after ghost filled building until they reached the one that they were looking for - the ruins of the royal palace. They saw the sealer, standing on the roof of the structure and watching over the city. He looked down at Kirk, his eyes giving an imposing glare at the former darkwraith.

"Ah. The legendary knight of thorns, come to rescue his comrades at long last. I'm afraid that it won't do you much good, not even with a friend. The city is sealed, and the darkwraiths are trapped within. If you wish for the key, you must pry it from the fingers of my corpse," the sealer shouted down in defiance. His voice was old and frail, but still conveyed a frightening power. This was a man prepared to fight, and a man who expected to win. Most of all, this was a man who belonged to a cause he was willing to die for. Such men were always, always dangerous. Tarkus and Kirk steeled themselves, entering the upper floor of the palace through a stone balcony. Within, they found a large room leading to a small opening at the back, with a ladder leading up to the roof. Within the room itself hovered a single ghost with red eyes - a banshee, if Tarkus had to guess. Sure enough, as the pair stepped into the room, the ghost tilted its head back and howled, creating a piercing shriek that caused other ghosts - eight in total - to appear throughout the room. Tarkus rushed the banshee, hacking at it once, and then twice, with his greataxe. No effect. Their transient curses had worn off.

"Kirk!" Tarkus shouted, making for the ladder at the back of the room. The knight of thorns got the message, having just come to a similar conclusion regarding the curses, and mounted the ladder, quickly climbing up out of the deadly room. As they emerged onto the roof, however, the pair was met with an arguably greater challenge. The sealer stood with his catalyst raised, ready for the battle to come. Kirk knew that there was no convincing him of the nobility of their cause, not with the history he bore. Instead, the knight of thorns simply raised his shield and charged.

The soul spear that followed hit Kirk with the force of a chaos demon's catalyst, and his shield didn't help. The spell punched right through his shield and armor as if they didn't exist, slamming into Kirk's arm and chest both with enough force to blow him backwards off of his feet. Tarkus, standing ready behind him, caught the knight of thorns and helped to steady him, getting him to stand on his own before buying time for the injured man to snatch his estus. Kirk did so quickly, and was back in the fight within a moment. However, the sealer had used the brief window to create a homing soulmass, his experience allowing him to summon not five but seven orbs hovering above his head. Any approach now, by either man, would be instantly lethal without the intercession of a large amount of luck.

But he hadn't accounted for both at once. Kirk and Tarkus split off, rushing the sealer from either side. His soulmasses, unsure of what to do, split off with four targeting Tarkus and three targeting Kirk. With the total power of the spell divided between the two of them, both were able to push through the impact to close the distance. They weren't counting on the sealer's melee combat skills. The tin banishment catalyst the sealer held had a wicked point, allowing the thing to double as a spear. The sealer attacked Tarkus first, stepping with his strike to avoid Kirk's own first slash. The magical nature of the catalyst allowed it to ignore Tarkus' armor just as well as a spell might, and pain erupted through the black iron knight's chest as he was impaled. The thrust failed to strike vital organs, however, and was by no means instantly lethal, giving Tarkus time to take a swallow from his own estus as the sealer turned to ward off Kirk, who slashed a second time. The sealer's left hand held a parrying dagger, and the red-robed man used it to bat Kirk's strike aside before raising his catalyst to cast another soul spear, this time at point blank. He never finished the incantation, however, as Tarkus stood up and slammed his dragon king greataxe into the sealer's back twice, with enough force to toss him to the ground. Kirk finished the man with a downwards stab, impaling the sealer through the heart. The man dissolved into souls, leaving behind naught but an old, heavy key. Kirk grabbed it, looking up.

"Shame it had to come to this. But when the choice lies between one man and an entire city, the answer is obvious," Kirk said regretfully, "Get ready to greet whoever comes. I'll unseal the city." Tarkus nodded, and the two knights turned to go.

* * *

Havel tagged the last of the most recent wave of darkwraiths with an indictment just before Solaire ran the creature through. The wraith faded into red mist, and the four men looked towards each other.

"That should be enough," Havel announced, "But which of us will go?" Havel said, taking out the orb. Each of them looked to the others with dread. Whoever used the orb would have a severe amount of pressure placed upon them - both the difficulty of success and the price of failure would be weighing them down. The other three would continue largely as they had, defending the city and tagging each wraith that arrived until the invasions ceased.

"I'll do it," Ornstein said, stepping forward and picking up the orb.

"Are you sure?" Solaire asked, "Remember that you're not as powerful as you used to be, and you're still getting used to your new body. Let me go. Please."

"I can't let you go in my stead," Ornstein replied, "I'm the only one who's sworn to the service of Gwyndolin. The orb won't work for anyone else. On top of that, I have knowledge of New Londo that no one else does - not even Havel spent the amount of time that I did in the city during the uprising." Havel nodded in confirmation, and Solaire sighed in acceptance. With that, Ornstein picked up the orb and gazed into it, willing it to draw him to do the will of Gwyndolin, the leader of the Darkmoon Blades. He felt the orb pull on him, and his vision faded to black.

* * *

The roar of water was deafening as millions of gallons of water spilled out of the sealed city into the deep canyon below. As the water drained out, Tarkus waited near the bridge into the city, where the blue phantom would appear. Sure enough, within a few minutes a grating screech sounded out as a man appeared in front of him, holding a long, sturdy spear and wearing his red hair - a shade that was hard to make out through his artificial blue aura - in a ponytail. He was clothed in a standard gambeson which bore a number of cuts in it, some which even showed through to his skin. The man was in bad shape, but Tarkus didn't recognize him - he appeared to be the red haired spearman who Kirk had mentioned the group had picked up.

The man looked up in shock, as if surprised to see him, or as if in recognition. Why was that? Then Tarkus began to connect the dots. A red ponytail, just like the plume of red hair on Ornstein's helmet. A spear, that same dragonslayer's weapon of choice. But he was the size of a man - something Tarkus could have passed off as a side effect of the orb that he hadn't anticipated - but the more significant discrepancy was the fact that he didn't have his own spear or iconic armor. Even so, he felt he had to check.

"Ornstein? Is that you?" Tarkus asked with incredulity in his voice. The man nodded the affirmative.

"By Gwyn, man. What happened to you?" Tarkus demanded, to which Ornstein mouthed something and shook his head. That was right. Phantoms couldn't talk without special magic utilized by Oolacile. He'd have to ask the dragonslayer when he got back to Lordran - if that ever happened.

"Right, well, come on," Tarkus said, gesturing across the bridge. Ornstein nodded, and charged into the city.

* * *

The city of New Londo was a mess. Ornstein had known the flood did some damage, but he had no idea that it was this extensive. On top of the smashed walls and buildings that millions of gallons of water had caused, sediment had begun to coat much of the architecture, and everything above the waterline was crumbled as well, having simply been left in disrepair for far too long. Ornstein looked down at the newly unsealed city, and watched as chaos unfolded. Hundreds of darkwraiths faded in and out of existence as they used their red eye orbs again and again - although they seemed to be taking some time to rest after each time they materialized, a probable reason for why they hadn't all invaded at once. Ornstein looked back at Tarkus, and mouthed the word "plan" to him while performing a quizzical shrug. Tarkus, fortunately, got the message and was happy to explain.

"We're just going to wade through that mess and kill as many as we can. Kirk's going to come into the fray from the other side and meet us in the middle, take some of the load off, but for the most part we're on our own. Is there an objective we're missing besides clearing out the darkwraiths?" Tarkus asked, to which Ornstein nodded.

"Alright. See if you can pantomime it or something. We'll try to get you back to Lordran as soon as possible so you can explain in depth what's going on. I assume you know?" Ornstein nodded, then continued into a series of gestures. He traced a small circle on his chest, where the darksign would have been. followed by a shrug, followed by placing his hand above his eyes and peering exaggeratedly into the distance.

"Circle on chest... the darksign! And you're confused... no, you're searching for it. It's missing? The darksign is gone?" Tarkus asked, to which Ornstein nodded, before following with another set of gestures - sliding his finger across his throat, followed by holding up four fingers, and finally tracing a circle around his forehead.

"Kill four... circle on forehead... is that a crown? Kings! Kill the four kings! We'll take care of that as soon as the darkwraiths are gone. I don't quite understand what it'll solve, but I suppose we'd need to get it done at some point anyways, or the abyss will spread out of the unsealed city. You ready?" Ornstein nodded, then readied his spear, before jumping down into the city below. He had carefully calculated his point of landing, and grinned as a darkwraith which he had seen vanishing earlier appeared right beneath him, having barely a second to react before his spear impaled the creature. The dragonslayer jumped clear of its corpse before sprinting at the next one. Behind him, Tarkus jumped into the fray, engaging a third darkwraith to the right. Ornstein couldn't afford to pay attention to that right now, instead focusing on his own battle.

The darkwraith he was charging parried his spear with its darksword before a glow formed in its ready left hand. Ornstein knew what was coming and took his right hand off of his spear, catching the wraith's wrist as it snapped up towards his neck. The strain was immense to hold the wraith at bay, but Ornstein managed it for just long enough to raise his spear in his left hand, blocking the wraith's second strike from that direction, and thrust it at the monster's chest. Unfortunately, the darkwraith's armor fulfilled it's purpose, causing the strike to clatter off the chest of the creature. Ornstein, having stepped fully into the thrust, now found the wraith inside of his reach and had no choice but to step even closer, so close that he would be inside the reach of the darkwraith's sword as well. He wrapped his arms around the darkwraith, pulling it towards him whilst grabbing his spear close to the tip with his right hand. After a few moments, he managed to locate a chink in the wraith's back armor and slam the spear through, killing it. As the wraith dropped, Ornstein snapped his spear out and reset his grip on the shaft. Almost as soon as he had, another had taken its place, swinging its sword in a complex pattern. Ornstein kicked the wraith's wrist as it brought its blade up for an uppercut, causing it to recoil, before lunging forwards with his spear. The wraith's unnatural energy shield saved it at the last minute, catching Ornstein's spear and holding it in the air just inches away from the wraith. Ornstein pulled his spear back and brought the haft up to block an overhead strike, which by some miracle didn't cut the spear despite the power of the swing. Ornstein leveraged it aside and bashed the creature in the chest with the butt of his spear, thankful that the thing couldn't quite react in time to block another strike. Ornstein quickly brought the tip around, minding the heavy armor around the chest area, and stabbed the darkwraith in its right shoulder. The spear overpenetrated, skewering all the way to his left hand, which was further forwards on the shaft, before it finally stopped. The wraith let out an unnatural scream as it dropped its sword, which Ornstein caught before it hit the ground. He brought the sword up into the armpit of the darkwraith, severing its arm the rest of the way and freeing his spear, before delivering a mighty hack to the creature's neck, decapitating it. Behind him, Tarkus was just finishing off his own third wraith, clearing the room that they had dropped into. Ornstein picked up his spear again, discarding the darksword as an unfamiliar weapon, and the pair made for the door.

* * *

Kirk hadn't realized just how many darkwraiths were in the city. He obviously hadn't been present in New Londo when it had been flooded and sealed, but he didn't think that their numbers would've spiked this much over the few months in which he had been operating in Blighttown before New Londo had been destroyed.

Well, there was nothing to be done except drop in and continue the plan. He saw the specks of Tarkus along with whichever of the four had been summoned as a blue dropping into the city from the other side, so he had no choice but to go through with it. Kirk jumped down, landing on a darkwraith which had recently reappeared from invasion, killing it instantly. The others nearby looked up, all rushing him at once. Kirk batted three strikes aside with the same shield swipe, impaling the wraith right through the throat, before yanking it sideways and decapitating it. He grabbed the darksword that was left behind, choosing it as a more vicious chopping weapon than his typical barbed straight sword, which he dropped into his bottomless box deftly before hacking at the second wraith. With the thing still unbalanced by his parry as it was, the hack got through and cut a ways into the wraith's shoulder, which, combined with the brutal yank Kirk perform immediately afterwards to get the sword out, was enough to drop it. The third wraith, however, had recovered from the parry and wouldn't be nearly as easy to kill. Kirk kicked him in the chest quickly, off-balancing him before following up with another hack with the darksword. The strike was blocked, however, by the darkwraith's art of lifedrain and held fast. Kirk knew the shield's weakness, however, having experimented with lifedrain extensively during his early years of invasions. Kirk dragged the darksword across the shield to the wraith's left hand, and the shield imploded, backfiring on the darkwraith and flinging his left arm aside. Kirk brought the darksword up again and slashed upwards, hacking through the wraith's armor, before ramming it through the gap to kill the creature. With the three wraiths in the immediate area dead, Kirk sprinted towards the center of the city, making as much noise as possible to draw the wraiths to him. The idea worked brilliantly, as Kirk watched seven darkwraiths emerge from the gloom after him. The knight of thorns turned to face them with a grin on his face - he was never one to turn down a good challenge. And this?

This was going to be fun.

* * *

Ornstein was getting better at finding the weak points in darkwraith armor. The neck just below the mask, most of the joints, as well as the point where the bone-patterned cuirass met the plackart, from a steep upwards angle. The dragonslayer used this last one to skewer another wraith - his seventh kill so far - after a somewhat lengthy engagement. Tarkus was operating far more efficiently, with his massive draconic greataxe being able to simply crush through armor in order to kill his opponents. The black iron knight sprinted past Ornstein to his left, raising his axe to kill yet another darkwraith - Tarkus' seventeenth kill, by Ornstein's count. Not knowing how many Kirk had dealt with, that left some two hundred and seventy to go. Ornstein felt the rush of air indicative of a darkwraith reappearing from an invasion just behind him, and pivoted, thrusting his spear by instinct. The darkwraith, caught completely off guard, barely managed to form it's rippling shield in time, and in desperation placed it's hand directly in front of the spear. Strangely enough, the spear penetrated into the deep red glow and created a sickly white flash that blew the darkwraith's arm aside.

_Interesting,_ Ornstein thought to himself as he brought his spear back before thrusting again. The darkwraith narrowly deflected Ornstein's second attack with its darksword blade, but Ornstein knew that he had won. He brought the butt of the spear around to strike the wraith in its left temple, pushing it back further and cracking it's mask - those were incredibly brittle, from what Ornstein had seen - before spinning his spear to bring the point forwards again before ramming it through the darkwraith's neck. The monstrosity dropped.

The pair had fought their way into the city streets, and were gradually working their way towards the palace in the center of the city, where they would rejoin Kirk, before using the connecting tower as a vantage point to search out any stragglers. Three more darkwraiths rushed them from a nearby plaza, and the two mismatched knights returned the charge. Ornstein lowered his spear as if to go on the offensive immediately, watching carefully for the ripple shield that he was sure the darkwraith would throw up. Sure enough, it appeared as Ornstein was a few feet away. He adjusted his aim, thrusting for the wraith's left hand as the shield went up. Just as before, the shield vanished with a flash of sickly pale light as Ornstein's spear struck the darkwraith's hand, flinging the wraith's arm to the side and presenting Ornstein with an opening. Ornstein was careful to avoid getting the second thrust deflected this time, bringing it in at a more specific angle with a firmer hold. The deflection attempt still came and landed, but the haft of the spear blocked it, receiving only a small nick before Ornstein was able to ram the spear through the darkwraith's torso.

Ornstein felt worriedly at the nick, not wanting to be disarmed as the result of a shoddy spear for a second time. It seemed like the nick would be fine for the moment, but there was no way to know if the spear would hold up to any further strikes. Damn, but this was frustrating. For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, Ornstein wished he was still able to use his own spear. Sadly, it was still as long as it had been when he was twice his current height, and, as a result, impossible to wield properly. With a resigned sigh, Ornstein turned to face the second darkwraith. Surprisingly enough, his tactic had managed to confirm a kill before Tarkus had even been able to drop his own opponent.

The second darkwraith charged at him with abandon, realizing that his shield was next to useless with Ornstein's newfound knowledge. Ornstein tried to intercept the wraith with his spear, but the darkwraith twisted its body at the last second, causing the spear to glance off of a reinforced plate of bone rather than slipping through a gap. Ornstein was left with no choice but to twist his spear to block the incoming strike, leaving another nick, much larger this time, in the haft. Ornstein shoved the spear out and threw the sword off of it, before twisting it back to thrust at the darkwraith's neck. The wraith, much to the dragonslayer's astonishment, snapped its left hand up to the spear, grabbing it by the haft and holding it fast in a burst of inhuman speed. The wraith snapped the spearhead off casually, before yanking the remnants of the spear out of the dragonslayer's hands and tossing it aside. Ornstein looked on in shock as the darkwraith brought it's sword back to strike his defenseless body. Could this really be it? Only having killed a total of nine darkwraiths, out of the three hundred some in the city, and already he had been defeated?

His answer came in the form of Tarkus, who, having finished off his own wraith, stepped in to lop this one's head clean off, dropping it before it could send Ornstein back to Catarina the hard way. The black iron knight noted Ornstein's broken spear and growled.

"Damn. Kirk has all the repair powder. What now?" Tarkus asked, and Ornstein looked around. He could use the darkswords left behind by the dead wraiths if necessary, but he would really rather not. They seemed foreign to him, their weight not quite right, and so he looked around for anything he could get his hands on in their stead. As if by divine intervention - although Ornstein knew from experience that no god in Lordran had ever been capable of such a thing - a foreign figure with one arm waved to him from a nearby rooftop, before tossing a bundle down to him. As Ornstein caught the package, the figure turned to pick up a long greatsword, before jumping away to another roof. As he did, just before he vanished out of sight, Ornstein noticed that the man - if man it was - had only one arm.

The bundle that had just been delivered was a long shape wrapped in tied leather, with a small note attached to the twine holding it shut. Ornstein glanced at the note.

_Old friend__,_ it read, _I heard that you found yourself unable to use your last weapon, so I had a friend procure this for you. Figured I'd drop it off as I was passing through. Seems I was just in time. -A_

Ornstein wondered who the signature '-A' referred to, but the handwriting was hauntingly familiar. The dragonslayer shrugged it off, not having the time to pay attention to it right now. Then he unwrapped the bundle, and was unable to conceal his shock. Inside was a perfect replica of his dragonslayer's spear, sized perfectly to his current form. How had anyone gotten this? He had only been human-sized for a week or so, and no human had the ability to create something in this style. Ornstein's wonder was redoubled as he grabbed the haft of the spear and felt the magic within - the lightning enchantments on this spear matched those of his original. There was no question about it. This was the work of the blacksmith deity. But how had it been created? How could anyone have possibly predicted this situation? The odds of this happening-

"I know what you're thinking," Tarkus interrupted, snapping Ornstein back to reality, "but it's best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. We'll figure out how the thing exists later. For now, we've still got work to do."

Ornstein nodded determinedly, tossing the leather wrap aside and readying the new spear. The pair charged ahead into the plaza, where another group of darkwraiths were waiting.

* * *

Kirk decided that he might have bitten off more than he could chew as he danced among the blades of fifteen separate darkwraiths, each determined to kill him simultaneously. Even during the Catarina battle, he had had Ornstein to keep the pressure off and make sure that only two or three wraiths were able to attack him at any given time. He threw elbows and kicks whenever he could, using his thorned armor to crack some of the darkwraiths' heavier plates, while performing the occasional brutal hack with his darksword. His kill count was up to thirty-seven now, but the things just kept coming. Kirk was now slowly but surely falling back to the palace, where he hoped to meet up with Tarkus and whichever blue had been sent in an attempt to turn the tide. But for now, Kirk fought on, even so heavily on the back foot as he was. As one wraith with heavily cracked armor overswung, Kirk lashed out, performing two strikes to hack first through its arm, and then through its neck. That made thirty-eight kills and fourteen wraiths bothering him. Two more emerged from the gloom to join the fray. Brilliant. Now he was back at sixteen. The only thing that had allowed him to live so long was the fact that New Londo streets were rather narrow, and only four to five wraiths could really attack him at one time. Being on the back foot as he was, they were all arrayed to one direction of him, and as new ones came he carefully maneuvered them into the central crowd before continuing to retreat. So, in reality, the fight was multiple five versus one encounters in a row, not a single sixteen versus one encounter. And with Kirk's knowledge of the darkwraiths, as well as a decent amount of caution, he could handle that.

As the two darkwraiths from behind approached, Kirk backstepped past them to get them in front of him, slashing at the one to his right and getting a decent hack in through the bone plate. Sadly, it was just a superficial wound and nowhere close to being lethal - meaning that Kirk would have to finish the thing off later. For a brief moment, the knight of thorns moved into an offensive stance, driving the two new wraiths back for just long enough to get them into the front line, before backing off again as the main line slashed at him from several different directions. As he did, one of the new wraiths - the uninjured one, Kirk noted - got impatient and charged at him. Kirk casually batted aside the creature's strike with his spider shield, before ramming the darksword through the creature's throat, and ripping it out in a brutal fashion that decapitated the wraith - an execution he was fond of, especially when there were other enemies nearby. It sent a message, and the others who had started to get a little bold in their strikes backed off. That was the biggest thing that Kirk had learned during his time with the darkwraiths - most of them, when faced with something that actually posed a threat, were cowards who preferred to hide behind their red eye orbs rather than fighting someone face to face. Dishonorable bastards. Kirk hacked at the line, only to find his strike blocked by a lifedrain shield and resume his slow backwards march. The knight of thorns took a moment to glance over his shoulder, checking his distance to the palace. He was almost there; only a few more blocks remained. He was worried about the ghosts, but decided that they would cross that bridge when they got there. Turning back to the battle at hand, Kirk yelled in defiance as he stepped forwards and lashed out once more.

* * *

Ornstein's new spear had handled beautifully. The weight behind it was greater, allowing him to punch through darkwraith armor with some effort, without being too heavy to use. He stepped across the pile of darkwraith corpses littering the plaza - fifteen in total - and picked a street to continue down. There were only a few blocks left to go until the pair reached the palace. Tarkus stepped up beside him, and the two broke into a regulated jog, the perfect balance between speed and efficiency for the circumstance. A darkwraith stepped out from an alleyway nearby, but Tarkus decapitated it with a swipe of his axe before it had a chance to make a move. Two more stood up ahead, but Ornstein had that covered as well, thrusting his spear forwards to fling a lightning bolt out of the tip. The bolt hit the left darkwraith in the chest, knocking it off its feet, before Ornstein kicked forwards in a rush of speed, closing the fifteen-foot distance and skewering the second wraith. He slammed the corpse of the second wraith down on the prone form of the first, who was just beginning to rise, and the spear blade punched through, killing it as well. Ornstein yanked the spear out as Tarkus caught up. Debris was littered across the road, but nowhere did it sit in such quantities as to become an obstruction. Tarkus and Ornstein simply wove around it as they continued on to the palace relatively unopposed.

"Careful," Tarkus said as they reached the palace doors, "Kirk and I had to get through there a bit ago in order to unseal this place. It was full of ghosts."

Thinking back to the figure that had tossed him his spear, Ornstein was fairly certain that those had already been handled, and kicked the doors open. Sure enough, the room was filled with a thick white fog, the remnants of slain ghosts.

"Well, that's fortunate. Wonder who did that?" Tarkus commented, before shrugging. "Ah, well. Let's see if we can spot Kirk from the roof."

A moment later, the pair discovered it wasn't necessary, as they saw Kirk retreating up a nearby street towards the palace, engaging what looked to be over half of the remaining darkwraiths in the city. The pair nodded, then rushed to his side. It seemed that the true battle had finally begun.

As Ornstein charged, he realized just how Kirk had managed to survive so long against such a mighty force. The streets were so narrow that only five darkwraiths at most could attack at once - the others would be blocked by their own comrades. Ornstein skewered one as he hit the line, causing the tip of his spear to protrude out the wraith's back and firing a lightning bolt though it to hit the next wraith in line, before kicking the first corpse off of his spear and creating a holdup. To the other side of Kirk, who stood in the middle, Tarkus hit the line as well, slapping a wraith in the chest with the blunt end of his greataxe and causing the creature to topple backwards into his fellows, halting their advance there as well. Kirk hacked at the center wraith with a darksword, taking off its head in a brutal fashion. Ornstein grinned as the line was replaced by more darkwraiths, who hesitantly advanced. Their hesitation was well founded.

* * *

Tarkus was impressed by Ornstein's capability in combat. He had never seen the dragonslayer fight before, but had heard rumors. They all undersold his true capacity. The man was a legend, thrusting and sweeping with his spear, sometimes taking out the entire five-wraith line with a single swing. Kirk and Tarkus were barely able to keep up once the dragonslayer fell into his deadly rhythm. Within a minute, he had slashed through six lines singlehandedly, and taken an additional four alongisde Tarkus and Kirk. As Tarkus' greataxe fell on the wraith in front of him, he abruptly found that there was no darkwraith waiting in its stead. Kirk and Ornstein had similar revelations as they finished their own groups. Over fifty darkwraiths killed in less than a minute, with a third of their numbers defeated totaling Ornstein and Tarkus' kill counts, before Kirk's was even brought into the picture. Whether the knight of thorns had intended this or not, it had been a brilliant tactical move. The three of them waded through the knee-high corpse pile back to the palace, where they climbed once more to analyze the city. There were still quite a few wraiths left alive in the city, but the battle had been won. The remaining enemies were scattered and panicked, trying to escape from the onslaught in any way they could, but finding themselves trapped at both ends by drakes in the valley, on the side of the city's main gates, and by a narrow bridge between the city and the lift to Firelink. There was still work to be done here, but Tarkus and Kirk could agree that they had accomplished something brilliant. And Ornstein stood as the spirit of salvation to Catarina.

AN: This was a really fun one to write. I've not done a ton of large scale battles, especially with a highly superior force fighting an inferior one. I tried to make it tactically realistic with the three knights trying to take things individually and then bottlenecking the larger force to minimize the number of enemies that could attack at once, essentially turning a 3 vs. 300 fight into a string of smaller, more balanced 2 and 3 vs 5 encounters. Still difficult, but once these guys started figuring out the darkwraiths' weaknesses, combined with the fact that both Kirk and Tarkus still have their darksigns active and the fact that Ornstein doesn't actually need one because he isn't human to begin with, I think it makes this pretty realistic. That doesn't mean I don't want to hear what you guys think, and I'd love some more reviews. Thanks for reading, and I'll see you guys in the next one.


	15. Chapter 15: Deathslayer

AN: The fun chapter I had planned has been postponed, on account of... it spoils too much. I'll throw it in later once the information it spoils has been revealed naturally. Instead, have the chapter that was originally going to be chapter 16. Enjoy!

Chapter 15: Deathslayer

Raven hacked through another skeleton as she and Oscar drove them back, towards the city walls. The remaining garrison had joined them, although no one rivaled the effectiveness of the two undead warriors. Raven was wearing one of pinwheel's masks - that of the Mother - and was amazed by the amount of vigor that it granted her. She had also reclaimed her heavy brass armor, an imitation of that worn by giant sentinels, and it was reassuring to have its weight back on her shoulders. Raven slashed upwards with the Zweihander, tossing a skeleton up into the air with the sheer force of the swing, before pivoting to lop the head off of another. Oscar hacked through two others beside her, and the pair advanced further, the garrison slowly chopping apart skeletons around them. They had already cleared out most of the inner city, and their own force was pushing towards the gate - a goal which was now in sight, only about 300 meters distant now.

"When will it end?" Oscar asked as another skeleton lost its head, leaving a skull and a pile of assorted bones to clatter across the ground.

"I would assume," Raven began, "That someone is controlling these skeletons. Likely some powerful necromancer, more powerful than Pinwheel, even. It stops when they're dead." Raven bashed a skeleton's face in with her pommel, before slamming the Zweihander down on the one behind it, continuing to advance.

"But who could be that powerful? Pinwheel has to be one of the stronger necromancers around," Oscar commented as he hacked another skeleton apart. It was slow going, but they were gradually advancing towards the gate.

"Guess we'll find out," Raven replied, chopping through three skeletons with a single, wide sweep. And, suddenly, the street seemed empty, only a few scattered skeletons standing between them and the gate.

"Odd," Oscar began, "If I had to guess, they retreated. But why? It's not like they just started being driven back. They've been on the back foot for the better part of today. And yet..." The Astoran Knight trailed off as he saw what was waiting just _beyond_ the gate. Giant skeletons. Fifteen of them.

"Well, this makes things interesting," Raven said, raising her Zweihander and charging the line, Oscar right beside her. The garrison advanced more hesitantly, nervous about this new threat. They had every right to be. Around five giant skeletons had been enough to turn the tide of the battle outside the city, allowing it to be overrun. Here were three times that number, all grouped together. If Raven and Oscar didn't take them out quickly, their advance would turn into a bloodbath.

Raven reached the line first, and one of the giants stepped out to attack. She raised her Zweihander to block, and swept the giant skeleton's massive curved sword down and to the right, pinning it to the ground under her own blade before lifting the Zweihander to hack at the skeleton. The hack sent a wave of chaos flame through the skeleton, blackening some of the bone, but the blade itself didn't make it past the hip bone, instead leaving a somewhat nasty gouge in the skeletal plate. Raven yanked the greatsword free and danced backwards as two more giant skeletons jumped forwards, each slashing at her. Oscar arrived a moment later, charging the one that Raven had already attacked and sliding past to stab directly at the bone Raven had weakened. Between the effects of the flame and the structural damage, the hip bone shattered and the giant skeleton toppled, not able to support it's weight with only one leg. Oscar turned to engage number two while Raven dealt with the third of the ones they had engaged. Instead of going for the hip bone, one of the thicker spots to try and hack through, Raven instead shoved the blade of the giant skeleton aside with her cross guard before bringing the Zweihander around for a higher swipe, cutting through the skeleton's spine. This was severed with ease, and the second skeleton dropped. Raven turned to engage a fourth just as Oscar killed the third out of the corner of her eye, and began to attack a fifth. The garrison chose that moment to arrive, and drew off the remaining ten from the duo, saving them a large amount of tedium.

* * *

Oscar placed his shield on his back and fought with his sword in both hands; a shield wouldn't do much good in this circumstance, given that the giant skeletons were capable of breaking his guard in a single hit. Oscar deflected a slash with some difficulty, before grabbing his sword by the blade and performing an overhead mordhau strike on the giant skeleton's rib cage. The cross guard stuck in between two ribs, and Oscar yanked viciously, causing the skeleton's rib cage to explode, scattering ribs everywhere. The skeleton tottered for a moment, and Oscar used the opportunity to snatch the hilt of his sword again and slash the skeleton's spine in two. That made four down. To his left, Raven kicked off skeleton number five's kneecap and jumped, lopping the skeleton's head off in midair before dropping to the ground and landing in a roll. In unison, the pair turned to face the remaining ten.

The garrison had actually done it's job, to some extent, and one of the ten was also down, along with a handful of soldiers. Raven charged into the fray, cleaving one of the skeletons in two from behind and dropping it. Oscar did likewise with a second skeleton. That left seven. An archer towards the back of the lines scored a lucky shot, and the head of another skeleton shattered as it was struck by a heavy arrow. A group of ten men each picked a bone on a fourth skeleton while it was distracted and yanked, pulling it apart manually. Raven hacked another skeleton's arm off, and then chopped it in half. There were only five left. The garrison had dropped two more while Raven wasn't watching, and she watched as Oscar dismembered a third. That left two which were rapidly swarmed and dismantled.

The garrison cheered at the sight of fifteen giant skeletons lay dismantled on the ground, something which was by no means an easy feat.

"Everyone split up and go help other groups!" Raven shouted over the clamor. The group of soldiers obeyed almost immediately, disintegrating into individual squads which rushed off down side streets.

"That went rather well," Oscar commented, "I thought that we would have a higher death toll from that one."

"The men handled it well and didn't panic like the first time," Raven replied, surveying the scene. It was at that moment that she realized something. The bones of the dismantled giant skeletons were quivering. As the pair watched, they rolled together and began to form into skeletons again. No- not skeletons. One skeleton. One single, massive skeleton which was more a pile of mismatched bones than an actual coherent form. As the skeleton finished forming, dark black smoke rolled off of its shoulders, creating the illusion of a cloak.

"That's not good," Oscar commented as the imposing figure towered above them, raising a skeletal sword.

"We're in trouble. That's NITO," Raven told him, raising her Zweihander defensively. The massive skeleton chuckled.

**"You're quite correct, dear," **Nito announced in a menacing, empty voice that boomed across the wide street, **"And I'm afraid that your little resistance has come to an end. You bear the rite of kindling. It belongs to ME!"** Nito slashed at Oscar with his massive Gravelord sword, and Oscar narrowly managed to backstep out of the radius of the swing. Raven stepped into it's path and planted the Zweihander tip down in the cobbles, bracing for impact. Surprisingly enough, the Gravelord sword was actually stopped fast. Raven acted quickly, levering the sword over her head and across her to the other side before jumping on top of it, and sprinting up the blade. A mass of dark red energy formed in her left hand as she jumped and punched Nito's primary skull. A booming explosion sounded, and Nito's form disintegrated, bones blowing apart in every direction. Raven landed in a crouch.

"No one attacks my friends," she said firmly. The skull that she had punched had shattered completely, leaving Nito a head shorter as he reformed.

**"Impressive, child. I assume that Kaathe taught you that trick? I'm afraid that lifedrain doesn't work nearly as well on me. Already dead, you see..."** Oscar's eyes widened. Kaathe, the primordial serpent? When had Raven talked to _him?_ Raven met his eyes and shook her head, a definitive "ask me later" gesture. Oscar nodded and raised his sword, prepared to face off against the Gravelord in what surely would be a losing battle.

Raven and Oscar charged Nito in tandem, both ducking under the massive sword that he swiped at them before taking a leg and hacking away. Both made it about halfway through their chosen bone before they were blown backwards by a miasma of death and disease, forming itself as a massive explosion of black goop. Raven bounced and rolled to her feet, counterbalancing herself with her Zweihander. Oscar didn't recover so quickly, bouncing to a stop and coughing, before vomiting violently onto the ground. Raven felt it too - a toxin in the goo which hadn't quite gotten to her. She couldn't afford to take another hit from the stuff, though. She'd have to end this quickly.

Raven charged forwards, anticipating Nito's swipe. Just before it hit her, she flung a black flame to her left, a burst of solid heat which stopped the blade fast. Raven jumped forwards, slashing at Nito's right leg, already damaged, with her sword. The limb splintered, and Nito wavered for a moment before an assortment of other bones, acting as padding on his chest, migrated downwards to replace the missing extremity. Raven cursed internally - there was no way to take him down quickly. Nito roared in fury, swiping at her and attempting to grab her. Raven backstepped nimbly, out of reach of his swipe, but back into the range of his sword. Nito brought the Gravelord sword slamming down towards her, and Raven braced the Zweihander to block. It held, but the sheer force drove her onto her knees. Then Nito lifted the sword to slam it down again. Raven managed to ride through the hit, although it was even more jarring than the first. Nito raised the sword again.

Raven let it fall, timing carefully. At the last moment, she slid to her feet and angled the Zweihander so Nito's strike ricocheted sideways and slammed against the ground, sliding Raven a few inches to the right. Raven spun the Zweihander in a full circle and brought it down on the spine of the Gravelord sword, hacking it once, twice, and then a third time. Each swipe dug deeper into the sword, the third chopping almost halfway through. Then Raven slid her sword free just as Nito attempted to yank his own free of the ground. With its weakened integrity, the Gravelord sword snapped in two and Nito roared, though whether in fury or pain Raven couldn't tell. The weapon did seem to be a piece of the Gravelord, after all. Instants later, Raven felt the ground rumble, and jumped aside just as an ethereal copy of the Gravelord sword erupted from the ground beneath her feet. She landed in a stumble, but unhurt, as the blade faded from existence.

Determined, Raven reignited her pyromancy flame in her left hand and threw two flame wheels - one at Nito's chest, and the other at his face. The one aimed for his face hit first, and his primary skull exploded, flinging free several other bones in his upper neck and shoulders. Then the other wheel struck, slamming into the Gravelord's center mass. Nito was forcefully disassembled for a third time as it detonated, flinging intact bones and splinters everywhere. As the gravelord reformed this time, he was considerably smaller - around twice the height of a standard giant skeleton, if Raven had to guess. But as he did, Raven saw something. The dark smoke that was trailing off of Nito's shoulders, forming the illusion of a cloak, had a source. A glowing black orb flicked into existence in the center of his chest, exposed now by the gaps that previously hadn't existed. Raven knew what she had to do.

Charging the Gravelord one last time, Raven nimbly sidestepped the shattered gravelord sword again before jumping into the air, kicking off of Nito's knee joint - which had several small bones to use as a foothold. Grabbing one of Nito's far too many ribs to steady herself, Raven braced against the toxic aura he exuded and rammed the Zweihander into the dark core.

The result was instant. The dark cape flashed white for a brief moment before dissolving into a mass of souls. The black core collapsed in on itself, dropping lazily to the ground amidst a disintegrating pile of bones. And the toxic aura surrounding Raven vanished - although not before inflicting a mild poison on her. Raven ignored it, knowing that it wasn't serious enough to kill her - unlike what was afflicting Oscar. She picked up the black mass - the death soul, as she recognized it - and noticed the pile of ash that it was resting on top of. There was no coiled sword, but... Raven stretched her hand out over it, and sure enough, it burst to life. Praise the merciful gods above, a bonfire! Raven rushed over to Oscar, and helped him stumble over to it, allowing him to collapse within its healing aura. He immediately perked up, the bonfire working its magic.

"How'd we get one of those?" Oscar asked, staring at it.

"Nito left it behind. We're safe now," Raven replied. Oscar chuckled at something she didn't understand.

"What?" She asked, confused.

"You killed him?" Oscar asked, and Raven nodded. Oscar laughed harder, inciting more confusion on Raven's part.

"Raven, don't you get it? You killed death! Death is dead!... I wonder what that means for everyone who's alive..." Oscar trailed off. "What now?"

"Now," Raven announced with determination, "We pray to Gwyn the Lordvessel still works."

AN: One Lord Soul down, three to go! Or, well, two. Technically the Four Kings and Seath each have half of a soul, so there's a total of 3, not 4... oh, whatever. Nito's dead, and Raven and Oscar have a path back to Lordran if the Lordvessel works. I haven't decided whether it will or not yet, so stay tuned and be sure to drop a review.


	16. Chapter 16: All Roads Lead to Lordran

AN: One-year anniversary! Raven's Souls is now one year old. To celebrate, the moment you've all been waiting for has finally arrived - the reunion of Raven's party. Enjoy!

Chapter 16: All Roads Lead to Lordran

"I can't believe this!" Siegmeyer grumbled as an iron creak sounded through the cell, indicating the barred door's closure, "We save a city, and they ship us back to the asylum and lock us up! It's outrageous! Even if we are back to being undead, it simply won't do!"

"Oh, come off it, will you?" Ornstein interrupted, "It needed to happen. After all, how else would we be getting back to Lordran?"

"Who said anything about going back? I certainly have no wish to return to that, that..." Siegmeyer struggled for a moment, trying to find some suitably awful description of Lordran to prove his point.

"It used to be beautiful, you know," Havel cut in, "Before the demon wars, before Gwyn's folly. Before the gods abandoned Anor Londo and left it to rot. Used to be one of the best places in the world - a downright paradise. Now, though? You're right. No one wants to go there. Raven didn't, Oscar didn't, I don't - not even Solaire, who became undead by choice, enjoyed the prospect of going to Lordran unless I've missed my mark. It's always a means to an end - fulfillment of an undead mission. Not that you get to go home once you're done - you just lose your purpose and go hollow. None of us want to go back to Lordran. But it needs to be done."

"He's right," Solaire added, his normally cheery voice overshadowed by gloom, "Ornstein explained it to me. Those darkwraiths were our fault. All of us, collectively, broke some sort of magical seal on Lordran when we shattered the Lordvessel. The only way to reset it, and give the rest of the world peace, if only temporary, is to link the flame."

"Now we've got a separate problem," Havel announced, "being how to escape this cell. None of us are armed, and there's a black knight standing guard outside. Not to mention the door is locked, and it looks too sturdy to pry open with my bare hands."

"Do you suppose the corpse has a key?" Siegmeyer asked, gesturing at the corpse on the floor of the cell.

"If it had a key, it would've left the cell while it was alive, wouldn't it?" Ornstein asked.

"That's a fair point, but it's worth a look. Could've been dropped in after it was dead. Through that hole in the roof. Who knows, maybe the fall killed them," Solaire said, searching the body. After a moment, he stopped, shaking his head.

"This is all I found," Solaire announced, holding up an odd-looking doll.

"Hang onto that," Ornstein told him, "It might be important. But unfortunately, it doesn't get us out of this cell."

"Then how do we get out?" Havel asked.

"Just give me a minute, I'm working on it," Ornstein replied, a hint of frustration showing in his voice.

"Wait," Siegmeyer interjected, "What about Raven and Oscar? Does anyone know where they are?"

"For all we know," Ornstein told him, "They're still in Lordran. Tarkus was. And if they're not? Let them be. Neither of them asked for this, or wanted it. Neither of them really accepted it - Arthur's legacy was a means of escape for Raven, a way that she could be someone besides the damaged undead she is. I don't know what was done to that girl, but there's no doubt that she's been through more than any of us, in less time. And Oscar, buying into that bullshit with the bells of awakening? They were never anything but a chance for undead to gain strength before they faced what was really in store for them. No, if they're not in Lordran, they're happier wherever they are. They brought us together. Let's do this for them."

"Well, that's certainly very sweet, but not necessary," a feminine voice chimed in, "We've made our choice too. And you'd better be glad I kept this key." The group looked up in unison, towards the source of the voice, and saw Raven's face through a hole in the ceiling. A moment later, a key plinked to the ground of the cell. Ornstein picked it up.

"Oh, one more thing. I convinced the Catarinans that put you here to hand over your weapons. Here," Raven told them, before dropping a large bundle into the cell. It contained Havel's dragon tooth and greatshield, Siegmeyer's Zweihander and pierce shield, Solaire's sunlight shield, the drake sword Solaire had been using, and Ornstein's downscaled cross spear. The party quickly armed themselves.

"Oscar and I will meet you in the courtyard outside, and we'll hope that that crow can carry all of us," Raven said with a wink, then slipped out of view. Everyone stared dumbfounded.

"How does that girl act so cheerful?" Ornstein wondered aloud. Solaire just shook his head.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Havel asked, gesturing towards the door, "Get that thing open. The black knight's no threat to the four of us." Ornstein complied, and Havel immediately slapped the black knight in the back with the dragon tooth. The knight sprawled forwards onto its face, and Ornstein took the opportunity to ram his spear through it's back. The black knight instantly dissolved into souls, leaving behind a chunk of red titanite and its sword.

"Anyone want that?" Ornstein asked, gesturing to it. Solaire picked it up and swung it experimentally, grinning as he felt its balance. He handed his drake sword to Havel, who placed it in the bottomless box, and set the black knight sword casually on his shoulder as the party moved on. Surprisingly enough, the black knight was the only obstacle that stood between them and the courtyard. Ornstein stepped out to see Raven and Oscar casually waiting for him. Havel, Solaire, and finally Siegmeyer followed behind.

"How did you know we were here?" Ornstein asked.

"Frampt explained the situation to us," Raven replied, "And we figured that someone, at least, would be trying to get back to Lordran. Looks like we were right. There's no time to waste, and two lord souls left to collect. So, who's first? Seath or the Witch of Izalith?"

"Seath," Havel cut in immediately, "It's about time that scheming bastard got what was coming to him!"

"Any objections?" Raven asked, looking over the party. No one spoke.

"It's decided then. Seath first. Let's go." Raven spun without waiting for an answer, stepping through a large pair of double doors. Oscar followed immediately behind her. Ornstein started after them, but was cut off as, just as he stepped through the doors, the floor collapsed. Raven and Oscar immediately tumbled downwards, both yelping in surprise. Ornstein lunged forwards in an attempt to catch them, but more of the floor disintegrated, dumping him into the pit below. He hit the ground hard, stumbling and falling as pain flared through his legs.

Then he saw the demon. It was a massive thing, grey and bloated with rolls of inhuman fat, and easily as tall as a god. Taller, even. And as Ornstein saw the twisted catalyst it wielded, his heart sank. He had fought this particular demon before, in the demon wars of Izalith. And he had lost. The demon raised its catalyst and slammed it down like a massive hammer. Ornstein narrowly rolled to the side, avoiding the blow, before stumbling to his feet. Raven and Oscar came up beside him.

"Watch yourselves," he told them, "That thing in its hands isn't just a club. It's a catalyst, and this demon knows how to use it."

"So how do we kill it?" Oscar asked, looking at the creature nervously as it lumbered towards them.

"We'll figure something out," Raven replied before raising her Zweihander and charging. As she approached, the demon swept its catalyst from left to right. Raven turned to block the blow with her Zweihander, but the blow was too powerful. She skidded back a few feet before being knocked over by the follow-through on the swing, and attempted a clumsy backwards roll to recover. However, halfway through the motion a burst of red energy exploded outwards from a point just in front of the demon, catching Raven in the blast and flinging her back even further. The Zweihander clattered to the ground beside her as she groaned in pain.

"Oscar, see if you can circle around behind it," Ornstein told him, "I'll try to hold its attention." Oscar reacted immediately, sprinting off to the side as Ornstein dashed forwards. The demon brought the catalyst back around, and instead of trying to block the massive blow, Ornstein simply ducked under it and allowed it to pass him by. He danced backwards a tad, anticipating another explosion, but nothing came. Oscar chose that moment to strike, hacking firmly at the demon's rump. It screamed and whirled on him, sweeping its catalyst low and flinging him backwards in a rising bash. It allowed its momentum to carry it up into the air, flapping its stubby wings a few times before dropping in a sit. Its landing was hard enough to make the ground shake. Ornstein stumbled backwards at the impact, leaving him off balance. Somewhere to his right, he noticed Raven stumbling to her own feet and taking a hearty swig of estus.

"Come on, then," Ornstein told the demon, recovering his balance and raising his spear defensively. In response, the demon slammed it's catalyst straight down in an overhead blow. Ornstein nimbly sidestepped the attack and sprinted in for a stab. He felt significant resistance in punching through the demon's thick hide, but the spear did skewer it, causing it to roar once more in pain. Then, as Ornstein tried to yank the weapon free, worst-case scenario occurred. The spear was lodged firmly inside of the demon's rolls of fat, and no amount of yanking on Ornstein's part seemed even remotely likely to get it free. The demon raised its catalyst again, tip towards the ground, and slammed it downwards, creating another burst of red energy that flung Ornstein backwards, sending searing pain through his entire body. He groaned as he rolled to a stop.

Raven picked up her Zweihander and placed the mask of the Mother, recovered from Pinwheel in Zena, firmly on her face, just as the demon raised its catalyst to crush a downed Ornstein.

"Hey!" she shouted loudly, getting the demon's attention. The beast turned and limped towards her, Ornstein's spear jammed firmly in its upper leg. It seemed stuck fast. As the demon approached, she realized that she had screwed up - acted without a plan. Now what? The question was answered for her as the demon slammed its catalyst down in an overhead smash. Raven had seen it do this once before, and no explosion had followed - it was safe to punish. She sidestepped the catalyst, and spun to grab Ornstein's spear. Instead of attempting to yank it out like he had, she shoved on it hard, pushing it further in and making the demon scream once again. Then she stabbed with her Zweihander as well, burying the blade up to the parrying lugs in the demon's belly. The chaos flames on the Zwei did their job, spreading across the demon's body and lighting the creature ablaze. Raven stumbled backwards, shying away from the sheer wall of heat that the demon had just become as it roared louder than it ever had before. A few moments later, the beast collapsed, dissolving into souls. The two weapons that had been buried into its belly clattered to the ground alongside a massive chunk of black rock. Raven picked up her Zweihander as Oscar and Ornstein staggered over.

"Wait... is that a titanite slab?" Ornstein seemed shocked as he picked up the chunk of black stone. On closer examination, it bore runes etched into its surface and had a few cracks, seeming to be places where smaller denominations of titanite had been chipped off.

"Worry about that later. If it is, its certainly a neat find. But first... How do we get out of this hole?" Raven asked, and Oscar gestured to the back wall.

"There's a ladder over there that looks to lead back towards the first set of cells. Worth a shot at least." Ornstein picked up his spear, still looking at the titanite slab in awe.

"Well, what are we waiting for? We've got a scaleless dragon to kill," Raven said as she started up the ladder. Sure enough, it put them out in the corridor to the cell that Ornstein and the others had just escaped from. They circled back around to the courtyard where three very worried knights waited around a bonfire.

"You guys can relax, we're fine," Raven announced, sitting down. Oscar and Ornstein followed suit, letting the bonfire heal their wounds. Ornstein showed the slab to Havel, who was equally shocked at its existence, before the stone-clad knight placed it reverently inside his bottomless box. The party sat in silence around the bonfire for a moment, simply enjoying its warmth, before Oscar broke the silence.

"We've still got a job to do. Come on. And this time... let's watch our step." This induced a chuckle throughout the party, but it was quite accurate - Havel almost fell into the pit as they navigated around it, simply due to his armor's sheer weight. It took Siegmeyer and Raven together, the two otherwise strongest members in the party, to heave him back to his feet. After much careful stepping, however, they made it around and out to the crow landing. A crow was already waiting, and immediately snatched up Raven and Oscar in a very familiar way. As the ground dropped away below them, they noticed several other giant crows circling and descending to fetch the rest of the party. Raven smiled, concerns forgotten for the moment, and snuggled against Oscar as they were grasped firmly in the crow's talons as their road led them once more to Lordran.

AN: I finished this chapter right on time. I wanted to do a publication on the one-year anniversary of the release date, and here it is. See? I'm actually not incapable of making a deadline! Please do leave a review, I'm curious as to what you readers think. I'm still debating whether or not to send the party into the painted world, so stay tuned for that if I decide to include it. Other than that... that other chapter that I teased in chapter 14 has been set aside indefinitely due to spoiling way too much. I'll get to putting it in eventually, but for now just keep in mind that some mysterious being killed the four kings during the timeline of chapter 14.


	17. Chapter 17: Consequences of Departure

AN: This chapter is mostly filler, but it does set up a few plot threads going forwards and isn't entirely without some fun action scenes. Sorry for the fake out if this chapter got moved to the top of the updated list - I just wanted to fix a few errors. Hopefully it doesn't give those of you who actually follow this story closely false hope. A new chapter will be coming in about a week and a half.

Chapter 17: Consequences of Departure

Raven was able to appreciate the view as she was lifted into Anor Londo much better the second time around. It had been a very long time since she had seen anything which rivaled cresting that large mountain to see the glorious golden light bathing the city and the massive towering spires of the keep. Behind her, lifted by more of the fleshy creatures that weren't quite a number of things that she had seen in past journeys, Solaire and Siegmeyer both gasped in wonder.

"It's... beautiful," Solaire whispered reverently, "The sun! Oh, the sun... I've never seen it so glorious!"

"Mmm," Siegmeyer hummed, "It is rather breathtaking, is it not? A shame, then, that we have another task." Tarkus and Kirk - the latter carried very gingerly, due to the thorns on his armor - nodded in agreement. Raven had forgotten that the four of them had never managed to get this far before.

The party dropped onto the landing below in a series of metallic clinks as each of them was dropped in rapid succession.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Havel asked, before charging down the stairs. Raven sighed in frustration at the archbishop's impatience - something that she had been dealing with over the past hour as they had trekked across Lordran back to Sen's Fortress - before rushing after him. Only a few stairs and a slight bend later, Raven stopped in shock as she watched the stone-clad warrior get slapped by a giant halberd wielded by a sentinel. Raven stared in bewilderment as the sentinel pivoted and brought its great shield down on top of Havel's prone form, squishing him. Oscar, coming up behind her, froze as well.

"They move now? When did that happen?" Oscar asked in shock.

"Don't know," Raven replied, "Come on. Let's go save him... again..." Raven raised her Zweihander and charged the sentinel, watching as it raised its halberd in a stupidly obvious telegraph. As the overhead slam came, Raven simply pivoted and stepped to the side, using the power of the stance she assumed to transition into a powerful uppercut which ripped through the Sentinel with a burst of fire and souls as well as a hollow clinking sound. When she looked again, however, there was no wound. Wonderful. Off to one side, Havel staggered to his feet just as Oscar joined the fray, slashing at the giant's left ankle to similar effect.

Raven immediately brought her Zweihander around for a thrust, attempting to burn the giant away by impaling it, but the sentinel deflected the blow with its massive greatshield, causing Raven to stumble backwards at the recoil. Raven watched the sentinel wind up for a massive horizontal sweep, and reacted quickly, diving between its legs. The halberd caught Oscar in the chest, making Raven wince, but his armor appeared to have held up. As Raven rolled back to her feet, she brought the Zweihander around for a thrust into the back of the sentinel's left knee. Having already wound up a second swing, the sentinel stumbled fowards a bit as the Zweihander's chaos flames consumed its left leg, before slowly toppling over that side and over the balcony railing. Raven quickly helped Oscar to his feet as the rest of the party, marked by much loud clanking of metal armors, arrived on the landing.

"Where is he?" Ornstein asked as he glanced around. Raven looked at the spot where he had fallen - now quite unoccupied.

"Really?" Raven asked rhetorically, "Well, come on." She waved the group after her as she rushed inside the building and around the corner, catching sight of the rogue archbishop on the far end of the landing. For someone so heavily armored, he certainly was incredibly fast. Although she herself knew just how effective those rings that they wore were - currently encumbered by heavy brass armor and a rather weighty porcelain mask, as well as one of the heaviest swords available in Lordran, because of that enchanted ring she was still able to keep up with Ornstein, who wore nothing but a typical gambeson. She still intended to do something about that - she seemed to recall a friend of hers in Zena, a man named Domnhall, being rather cheery about the prospect of journeying to Lordran because of the possibility of a good deal. Even when she had known him, he had had a habit of stocking human-sized replicas of the armor sets worn by legendary figures - including, she hoped, that of Ornstein. Sadly, she hadn't been able to locate him yet.

Raven sighed in frustration as Havel turned a corner and disappeared. They weren't going to be able to catch him, not like this.

"Damn that ring. We'll have to hope he survives and catch up with him later," Raven muttered.

"Hmm... A magic ring, you say? That does put us in quite the pickle... hmmm..." Siegmeyer appeared to be mulling the issue over, lost in thought.

"At any rate, we'd better stop by the bonfire here before we attempt to give chase. It'd be less than ideal for us to get killed and wind up all the way back at the Undead Parish," Raven told the party, gesturing to indicate the bonfire down the stairs. Everyone nodded in agreement. The brass-armored firekeeper glanced up uninterestedly as Raven entered, followed closely by Oscar. Then Siegmeyer and Solaire marched in, and she grew more curious. After which followed Tarkus and Kirk, by which point the keeper seemed downright baffled. And then Ornstein walked in. The firekeeper's curiosity immediately melted away, being replaced by pure, unadulterated rage.

"You," she muttered, venom dripping in her voice, "How DARE you show your face here? You swore an oath to Lord Gwyndolin, to protect the Lordvessel, and then you abandoned your post! Did you kill Smough to do it? Electrocute him until he was nothing but ash, like the ash we found in the cathedral? Did you not even have the respect to face him honorably? And then you had the nerve to rely on a blue eye orb after your betrayal. You're lucky you weren't incinerated where you stood. Do you know that the Lordvessel was stolen in your stead?" The keeper had an estoc out now, glowing dark blue with magic. She raised it towards Ornstein threateningly.

Raven didn't appreciate that, nor did she want to kill a firekeeper - not after the incident that had occurred the last time one of them died - but she did take action quickly. In a single, definitive downwards chop of her Zweihander, she sheared off the flimsy blade of the offending estoc three inches from the hilt. The firekeeper seemed to realize quite abruptly that she was no longer holding a sword, and stumbled backwards in shock.

"Ornstein didn't do anything against Gwyndolin's interests. He didn't attack Smough - I did. It wasn't electricity that left him ash on the ground, but the chaos flame that inhabits my Zweihander. Ornstein decided that Oscar and I had completed the challenge to obtain the Lordvessel, and Gwynevere bequeathed it to us, after which he was released from service, having nothing left to guard. He decided to come with us. That clear everything up?" Raven asked menacingly, her Zweihander still poised to strike even though she knew she wouldn't follow through with the threat.

"Undead of prophecy, I fear that your word in this is valued naught. Lord Gwyndolin has ordered the former knight captain Ornstein banished to the Painted World of Ariamis. His will must be done," the brass keeper said, calm. Ornstein lowered his head.

"It's all right, Raven," he told her, "Finish the mission. Link the flame. I'm glad that I could be of assistance in some regard, at least. Don't try to rescue me - its not worth the risk." The dragonslayer looked up at the brass keeper and nodded.

"I accept the consequences of my departure. I'll come quietly," Ornstein announced, and the firekeeper uttered a quiet 'hmph' before pulling Ornstein out of the room and up the stairs. The room was silent, the entire party reeling from shock.

"Did that really just happen?" Tarkus asked, "The dragonslayer of legend, hauled away for crimes not his own?"

'We mustn't dwell on it," Raven said solemnly, "He told us to finish the mission. That's what we'll need to do. And if it means leaving him to his fate... I fear that it won't be the last casualty of this war."

"Raven..." Oscar laid a hand on her shoulder as she turned to go, "Are you sure you're fit to be chasing after Havel right now? Right after we just watched our friend be sentenced to... well, I'm not going to sugar coat it. We all know that he won't survive, not if we leave him in there."

"It's what he asked! Do you think I'm happy about it? I know what banishment to the painted world means! But you can never leave, never! And if we went in after him, the only thing we'd accomplish is trapping ourselves in there with him!" As the words left her mouth, Raven realized she'd been shouting, at Oscar of all people. She took a shaky step back.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." Oscar looked at her pointedly.

"Raven, don't. You don't have to apologize. I understand," he told her.

"There is one way out," Solaire submitted gently.

"What?" Raven asked, confusion radiating from her body language.

"A small doll that I found in the asylum. What it was doing there, I don't know. But Ornstein mentioned to me that it was related to the painted world, and that it might be able to allow a way out. Go after Havel, make sure that he gets to Seath. I'll go get Ornstein," the sunny knight announced.

"Raven, before you go, I have something for you. A ring that Lautrec left behind when he killed that firekeeper. Well, after I killed him for killing the firekeeper, I suppose. Anyways, I thought you might want it. I heard something about the Father of Giants being protected by Fina, and, well... ah, enough rambling. Just take the damned ring." Tarkus outstretched his hand, showing an intricately woven golden band resting on his palm. Raven picked it up and smiled.

"Thank you," she told him, "This was one of the last things on my list. Really doubted I'd ever manage to find the thing." She slipped the ring on her finger, and immediately gasped with the burst of vigor she felt. The ring did everything - more strength, endurance, and it made her feel even lighter in her armor than Havel's ring alone had managed to.

"Go," Oscar told her, "I'll follow when... if, I can. The others can go with Solaire to brave the painted world."

"Well, if you'll excuse me, I have an archbishop to catch," Raven announced, turning to sprint up the stairs. With the added boost from the Ring of Favor, she was able to take them two at a time and sprint across the landing afterwards with ease. She covered the distance in less than half the time that Havel had, darting through the building on the far end and around a corner to a second landing. The landing transitioned into more traditional earth, which sloped upwards steeply, more stone inlaid into the side of the hill forming stairs. Raven took these, too, two at a time, reaching the top in just a few moments. At the top, she saw one of the most grandiose hallways that had ever seen, standing open and inviting. And about halfway down it, she saw Havel raising his shield against a charging armored boar.

"Oh, not another one of these!" Raven sighed, sprinting down the hallway just as the archbishop was bowled over. The boar kept going, straight towards her, but Raven had other plans. She lowered the Zweihander to a horizontal position, and the boar couldn't stop in time. Before it slammed into her, it skewered itself on the outstretched Zweihander, its momentum carrying it all the way up the blade onto the crossguard, where it finally stopped. The plate armor fell to the ground with a loud series of clanks after the boar inside was burned to ash. Raven heard Havel stagger to his feet once more, and, learning from her past mistakes, placed herself deliberately between him and his goal.

"You want to move?" Havel asked menacingly. The stone-clad bishop didn't scare her. Raven knew that, if worst came to worst, she could take him out. Raven firmly and calmly shook her head.

"You aren't approaching this logically. You're rushing in, charging a boar with three times your body mass and expecting a shield between you and it will do a damned thing... you need to stop, calm down. I know you hate Seath. I don't know why. But I do know that while you're acting like this, you're never going to beat him. So please... let me help you," Raven told him firmly.

"You want to know why I hate Seath?" Havel asked, anger still filling his voice, "I'll tell you the story. Maybe then you can understand why I feel the way I do. There was a woman named Sieglinde who came to Lordran about a cycle ago. Said she was looking for her father, trying to deliver her mother's dying words. I took pity on her, helped her... and after some time, not finding him, we fell in love. I didn't announce it, didn't marry her - it wouldn't have been appropriate, based on Gwyn's arbitrary social norms - but while we were alone, we acted as if we had. She got pregnant. It was the happiest day of both our lives when we found out. Two weeks later? I woke up to a crystal golem breaking down the door. I was unarmed, and it knocked me unconscious. When I came to... she was gone. The paledrake _stole_ the love of my life and our unborn child, all for the sake of his mad experimentation. When I tried to do something about it, knowing that Gwyn would turn a blind eye, the benevolent Lord of Sunlight locked me in a basement for six centuries, left me to rot until you found me. Only my rage kept me from going hollow. Is that reason enough for you? Reason enough to let me kill this bastard?"

"I never needed a reason," Raven replied, "Never told you you couldn't take Seath down. You can. But you need to be smarter about how you get there. The reason why you were so helpful in the Parish, why you were able to save Catarina, is because you approach things logically. You use your brain alongside your club. Why should now be any different?" Havel took a step, hesitated, and then nodded.

"You've always been good at talking people down. Me in that basement, Ornstein in Anor Londo... it's why Oscar loves you," Havel told her. Raven cringed at that last bit.

"You know about that?" Raven asked sheepishly. Havel burst out laughing.

"Oh-hahaha of course I know... hell, girl, I'd be shocked if _Siegmeyer_ hadn't figured it out by now. Don't worry about it - its nice to see you two happy. Ah, enough of that. We've got a dragon to kill." Havel broke into a run down the hall, this time allowing Raven to match his stride and keep up. Two hallway corners later, another boar reared its head.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding!" Raven exclaimed in frustration, carefully sidestepping the boar's charge and watching it slam headfirst into the far wall of the hallway intersection as it encountered none of the expected resistance from either her or Havel. The armored beast struck the wall with such force that cracks appeared along it, before stumbling backwards in a daze. Havel quickly stepped forwards and slapped the boar's rear with his dragon tooth, causing the boar's rear legs to skid sideways as the creature stumbled. The result of all this was quite immediate, being that the boar lost its balance and pitched onto its side with a metallic thud.

"Should we just leave it?" Raven asked as the pair watch the boar's legs wave helplessly in the air, unable to find any purchase to right itself. Havel shook his head before bringing the dragon tooth down on the boar's, putting the creature out of its misery.

"Right. Moving on," Havel announced, running into an open room with a bonfire to the left. Havel ignored it, rushing up the stairs and onto the lift while Raven quickly lit the bonfire before following him. As Raven stepped onto the lift, Havel heaved the lever, setting gears clicking and clacking as the lift pulled itself up the track in the wall. A moment later, the lift arrived on the next floor, where Raven noticed their first real challenge.

"I count eight of those crystal soldier things waiting behind pillars and such - there might be more than that, even, but I'm not seeing them. There's a single crystal golem off to the right, as well as a Channeler up the stairs straight ahead. We'll get killed for sure if we rush in without a plan," Raven advised, to which Havel nodded knowingly.

"So we rush in with a plan," Havel said, "Sprint to the stairs, maybe up them. If I use Great Magic Barrier, I'll be able to sponge up anything that Channeler can throw at us. I'll charge the thing and take it out. You stay in the doorway and keep the crystal hollows from this side off my back. They're spread out in such a way that they won't be able to time a unified charge, so you can pick them off one at a time as they run up." Raven glanced around.

"Wait. I should take the golem out with a Greatbow shot first - that thing looks like trouble to fight in close quarters," Raven told him. Havel nodded in agreement and pulled out his bottomless box, before rummaging through it to find the dragonslayer greatbow and a greatarrow.

"Fire a single shot, then drop the bow and run. The sound of that golem going down is sure to alert the rest of them, so we'll have to move with the rest of the plan pretty quick. Here's a tip. Those crystals have grains running in a few different directions. If you can find a point where the grains meet, a seam, if you will, and shoot that, the whole golem will explode in a single hit. Miss, and you'll probably only chip off a few shards of crystal. Take your time with this shot - we can afford it before you let that arrow loose." Raven nocked the massive arrow and planted one end of the bow into the ground, before closing one eye and tilting her head to look down the length of the massive steel rod. It didn't take long for her to locate one of the weak points Havel had mentioned, and after a few adjustments to the angle of the shot, Raven allowed her fingers to gently slip off the bowstring before dropping the construct the instant she saw the arrow strike.

The massive steel rod flew true, slamming into the golem and shattering it into thousands of shimmering crystal bits. Raven, alongside Havel, immediately sprinted forwards towards the center of the room. As Havel ran, he clutched a talisman and muttered a quick prayer, causing a shimmering white aura to appear around him before pulling his dragon tooth off his back. Raven spun on her heel at the door, raising her Zweihander in the opposite direction, while Havel barreled forwards toward the channeler. Raven watched as the eight soldiers she had spotted, as well as two that she hadn't, rushed towards her in loping strides. The closest of the hollows was the least fortunate, as only a half pace in he placed himself in reach of Raven's zweihander. Raven swung her blade in a narrow arc which took the crystal soldier's head off. As another soldier stepped into reach, Raven extended the swing to cleave him in two as well, before bringing the sword up and around over her head to perform another such sweeping attack. The next crystal soldier to step into reach blocked the strike, a puff of dark red fire wreathing his shield for a brief moment as the zweihander's chaos flame sparked against it. The flame, however, was not the cause of his death. That was the sheer force of the blow, which flung both shield and soldier backwards to smash against a pillar. The remaining seven soldiers hesitated, approaching much more warily than the first few. In response, Raven willed flame to appear in her left hand before concentrating it and throwing it as a disc of burning flame, which spun through the crystal soldiers, cutting four in half. That left only three combatants against Raven - two melee soldiers, and an archer. Raven casually took the arrow that the archer fired to the chest, watching the wooden thing clatter off her heavy brass armor, before sprinting back down the stairs at the remaining three crystal hollows. A quick left to right swipe with her Zweihander took care of the archer, at which point Raven spun on point again to throw the sword into a wide 270 degree sweep, catching both of the other soldiers and cleaving them in two.

The room clear, Raven casually set the zweihander back on her shoulder and walked up the stairs when she noticed a bit of an oddity. The location where the crystal golem had been standing also held a very interesting table. Raven walked up to it, curious. The thing appeared to have some sort of planetary figures on it which Raven couldn't decipher. However, another oddity rested on the table, a broken pendant wrapped in a dark red vine. As Raven looked at it, she realized that she heard whispering voices surrounding her. Some of the words were indistinct, but Raven found that she could make out others.

_"Home... must go home... can you take me? Back to him, back to my sir... to my lord... home... the garden... the chasm..." _The message deteriorated from there, becoming meaningless garbled words, none distinct. Raven couldn't help but strain to make sense of them. Abruptly, Raven realized she had picked up the pendant and was holding it up in front of her face. Shaking her head and trying to refocus on reality, she absentmindedly slid the pendant into one of her belt pouches. Turning around, she saw Havel waiting expectantly.

"Any idea what that thing is?" Havel asked.

"Not a clue. I'll ask Ornstein later, if Solaire can get him back. Got the channeler out of the way?" Havel nodded, but Raven could see that he was confused when she mentioned Solaire having to retrieve Ornstein. Seeing no point in burdening the archbishop further with an explanation, Raven picked up the greatbow and handed it back to Havel before stepping through the doorway.

"Wow," Raven commented as she saw the other room, "That's a lot of books." Havel nodded in agreement, but ignored the massive collection of knowledge, instead making a beeline for the next lift. Raven followed him, and watched the gears of the contraption rotate as Havel cranked the lever. She could almost understand how the lift managed to work - the key word being almost. In reality, she had no clue how the contraption managed to function.

As the lift reached the top, however, Raven noticed crystals creeping across the walls and ceiling - an indicator that Seath was incredibly close. Havel growled in fury as a crystal covered knight stepped out from a nearby hallway.

"Go get Seath," Raven told him, "I'll take care of this guy." Havel nodded his approval and turned to sprint up the stairs as the knight raised his shield and sword. Raven immediately swiped the zweihander at the knight, but the crystal-armored warrior simply backstepped out of her reach. As Raven swung again, the knight repeated the action, again and again until Raven decided that the best way to deal with the warrior was simply to cheat. Raven tossed the Zweihander to the side and raised her fists, unique energies forming in each of them. Her right hand glowed with a sickly red energy, the color of lifedrain, while her right blazed with the flame of pyromancy. The knight charged immediately, and it was Raven's turn to sidestep, before she pivoted and unleashed a black flame on the knight, causing him to stumble. Raven followed up with her right hand, grabbing the knight by the throat and using the power of lifedrain, whose power changed from dark red to a sickly off-white as it connected, to drain the life from the warrior. She held him until he fell limp before releasing her grip and allowing his lifeless husk to drop to the floor as it dissolved into souls. Raven quickly picked up her zweihander and sprinted up the crystal stairs after Havel. At the top, she was met with a fog gate, and grinned as she stepped through it, expecting to find Havel locked in combat with Seath. Instead, Havel was gone, with the paledrake looming over a massive, crystal covered room.

Seath was massive, and appeared skeletal and grotesque, but Raven had seen and fought far more hideous monsters. Raven stepped forwards with determination, looking for a method of reaching the paledrake, who was situated above the room and out of melee reach. Then Raven saw something which horrified her - a petrified corpse reaching as if to shoot a bow, with a familiar weapon on the ground in front of it. Havel's greatbow. Somehow, he had lost the fight this quickly. There were four greatarrows resting next to the bow, and Raven snatched the group up, placing her Zweihander on her back before taking aim. As she watched, Seath inhaled before blowing a white fog out, crystals forming from the floor inside. Raven loosed quickly before rolling away from the paledrake and out of the line of fire. The shot, despite being rushed, flew true, skewering Seath through the neck.

Then the worst thing Raven could imagine happened - the arrow simply fell out, leaving a wound in the neck of the paledrake which closed in just a few seconds. The scaleless dragon glared at her with unveiled fury, and the room exploded with crystals. Raven screamed in pain as she was impaled by multiple crystal spears that erupted from the ground, desperately trying to reach her estus and failing as she felt her consciousness slip away.

Raven groaned in pain as the world faded back into view. She was in a cell. How had she gotten here? The bonfire wasn't... oh. Raven noticed the bonfire in the cell, and realized that she'd been forcibly redirected. She quickly tried to use the Lordvessel, but couldn't sense any of the bonfires from this one. Shit. Looking around, she saw Havel, sitting dejectedly in a corner, and a manserpent standing guard just outside.

"How?" Havel asked aloud, "He's fucking invincible. I put three greatarrows in him and the wounds healed instantly before he cursed me with some weird white fog. I assume you didn't fare any better?" Raven shook her head.

"Well, don't bother trying to escape. There's no way out of the cell - damned dragon thought of everything. We'll just have to hope that one of the others come looking for us when we don't come back out. So get comfortable - it looks like we're going to be here a while."

AN: Okay... I think I finally found a spot to stick the chapter I've got on hold. Expect another update in just a few days because that one is already mostly finished. Be sure to leave a review if anything caught your eye!


	18. Chapter 18: One-Armed Wolf

AN: This chapter takes place in parallel to Chapter 14. Now that Raven has found the pendant I figured that it was finally time to stick this in here. Enjoy!

Chapter 18: One-Armed Wolf

The roar of water was deafening as millions of gallons of water spilled out of the sealed city into the deep canyon below. The One-Armed Wolf watched from the hillside as the numerous drakes sitting on the bridge settled back into place as the rush of water slowed to a mere trickle. He stroked the head of his companion, an actual wolf, before picking up his legendary greatsword from where it leaned against the natural wall. He checked that the package for Ornstein was securely strapped to his back, and watched as the silhouette of a man dropped down from a tower just inside the gates of New Londo and began methodically attacking a group of darkwraiths.

Damn. No way to go in there - not without revealing his presence too soon. That was to be expected, though. Kirk, Tarkus, Raven - although she wouldn't be here - Ornstein especially, were all incredibly competent tacticians, and it followed that starting on both sides of the city would be the most logical approach to this scenario. So the One-Armed Wolf whispered his farewell to his canine companion, setting off down the narrow path that traced the wall of the Valley of Drakes, balancing carefully because of his large size. One advantage to going this way would be the relative lack of, well, drakes - those tended to live towards the southern end of the valley. Not that they were any issue to him; he had fought in the dragon war, and killed his fair share of true dragons, so drakes had become a downright joke to his abilities, even now that he was down an arm.

As he neared the end of this path, the Wolf cursed his foolishness - this city had been built for humans, and it would follow that most of the entrances would be sized accordingly. There was no way he could fit through that tiny little gate. And so, the knight did the only thing he could. Hefting his greatsword, he slammed it against the wall, wincing at the amount of noise that it generated - although there was no way it would carry across the entire city - and stepped through the hole he had created. He was forced to perform the action a second time to escape the tower, leaving a spire that barely had the structural ability to support its own weight standing behind him.

The Wolf Knight - Artorias - beheld the destruction with a mix of awe and horror. Here stood a monument to success where he himself had failed; the abyss here had been contained, albeit at great cost. But there was a difference between contained and destroyed. The last time he had faced the Abyss, he had failed, only being spared by an unlikely twist of fate. But this task was his, and his alone. He could not continue, could not even live with himself, knowing that he had let others complete the task assigned to him while he hid like a coward. With a deep breath, he stepped across the rickety bridge into the city proper.

The ghosts were the first thing he saw, as they rose up from the ground all around him, whispers of failure, of betrayal, surrounding him on all sides. A single swing of his greatsword, cursed by his failure, put them to rest. Artorias was respectively silent as he shouldered his greatsword before marching onwards. Stairs which were far too narrow for a man his size to ascend barred his path, but their switchbacking nature made it simple to climb them in an unintended manner - simply stepping on one switchback, and then the other, and finally on the top platform - once a room, the Wolf Knight suspected, now reduced to an open area with a few chunks of shattered wall remaining - where more ghosts waited. Once more, the remnants were banished by a single wide sweep of his greatsword, dissolving into mist.

And now Artorias faced the first true obstacle. While New Londo had been built with some degree of traversability allowed to the rooftops, the paths across and through them were built for men. The opening to the bridge ahead, the bridge itself, and the doorway of room it led to were all far too small for Artorias to fit through with any measure of comfortability, as was, he suspected, the room that lay beyond. And so, the Wolf Knight was forced to improvise, sprinting towards the too-small path at a dead run. He managed to fit one foot through the opening, and that was all he needed to push himself up into a leap which deposited him safely on the rooftop of that building.

From a high vantage point, the city of New Londo appeared even more of a mess than it had even from the ground moments ago. Artorias could clearly see all of the holes in walls, all the partially destroyed or completely missing roofs, and most of all the endless cracks that laced through every piece of stone in the city. The dank gloom, as well as mold and mildew covering walls below what the water level had been, covered the city in its entirety. Artorias watched patiently as Tarkus and Ornstein methodically hacked and stabbed their way through several waves of Darkwraiths, following them across the rooftops until, just as he had been warned, Ornstein's wood-hafted spear was cleaved in two by a darkwraith's attack. Ornstein managed to dispatch his current opponent with half a spear, and Artorias took his chance, wordlessly catching Ornstein's attention with a wave, before tossing him the bundle and taking up his greatsword once again. Ornstein looked up in curiosity, but Artorias didn't allow the lion knight a chance to discover his identity, instead leaping away with incredible haste, landing in a crouch on another rooftop, out of sight of the dragonslayer. Now that his first task was addressed, Artorias had only a single mission in the city - the four kings. He knew the exact location of the cellar into which the abyss had creeped - once the prison of New Londo, now replaced with an endless black void. The wolf knight made a beeline for the tower in question, only to find- with some frustration - that this entrance, too, was far too small for him. Artorias sighed in resignation, breaking the entrance wider with his greatsword. The one-armed wolf checked that the ring of his covenant was placed firmly on his finger, alongside his wolf-seal ring, and stepped off the edge, dropping down through the tower into the black void below.

* * *

The void was cold, almost freezing, and shockingly empty. Artorias knew, in his mind, that he was still falling, but it felt to him as if his feet were firmly planted on some invisible surface - he could step, and he would move a step in this strange null space - not that it mattered, without a point of reference. Still, this area was nothing like the chasm that he had expected.

The wolf knight was snapped out of his line of thought by a flash of grey light in the distance - the materialization of one of the four kings. It was a twisted form, Artorias noted, but retained a sense of grace and regality to it... that seemed wrong, somehow. He had seen what the abyss did, to himself, to Manus and the inhabitants of Oolacile. None of them had retained any measure of this grace as they had become corrupted. Indeed, the king seemed almost surreal as Artorias watched it glide towards him menacingly - only to discover, as it closed in and vanished, that it was nothing but an illusion. It made sense when Artorias began to think about it - everyone, none of whom had been present in New Londo as it had begun to slide into the Abyss, claimed that the four kings had dragged them down. However, Artorias realized that only one of them, Jar-Eel, had even been undead, much less corrupted by Kaathe. In reality, there would only be one king in this Abyss.

Artorias ignored another flash, indicating the appearance of another twisted king who vanished soon after, instead trying to spot the real man in this void.

"Jar-Eel! Show yourself!" The wolf knight demanded, his voice echoing across the void. No reply came except the appearance of another false king. In anger, Artorias lashed out with his greatsword, slashing through the illusion and causing it to burst into grey light. At this, an ominous chuckle sounded through the abyss.

'So the famed wolf knight finally comes to finish his mission..." A deep, twisted voice sounded across the void. It had a sound of metal grating on metal, and echoed in a booming fashion, resounding multiple times across the void before finally fading.

"Face me, you bastard," Artorias growled, raising his sword and spinning slowly, trying to ascertain which direction Jar-Eel would come from.

"Me, a creature of the abyss, face the legendary abyss walker? One of the most renowned swordsmen in history, only ever bested in combat one single time... I hear its what cost you that arm. Still... who am I to refuse a challenge? A bit of fun before you fall to the embrace of the abyss once more..." Artorias shook his head, firmly denying that he would fall again. The statement lacked conviction - even as he spoke, he could feel the darkness pressing in, eating away at his soul. There was only so much time he could spend down here.

A sudden shout from above shocked Artorias as a man his own height dressed in twisted and mangled dark bronze armor dropped on him from out of nowhere. Expecting an attack from a horizontal plane, Artorias was caught off-guard, and Jar-Eel's dark hand found his throat, tacking him to the nonexistent ground and sending his sword spinning away into the darkness. The wolf knight felt the dark burning through his body as Jar-Eel's corrupting hand clutched his throat, and desperately tried to remove the corrupted king with his single arm. As he felt his life draining away, he remembered Raven's words, all those years ago.

_"Lifedrain doesn't - can't - choose what to take, nor can its wielder. Only the victim, by deciding what is most valuable to them, can choose what the dark hand will steal. If your life matters more than anything, you'll die - if humanity, you'll lose it, souls are the same. The dark hand can be tricked, though, into taking exactly what you want. It's as simple as trying to guard that part of you above any other..."_

Artorias changed his struggle - instead of trying to keep Jar-Eel's hand off of him physically, he fought to seal away a specific part of him - the darkness slowly creeping up on his soul - so that Jar-Eel could not take it. Instantly, he felt that part of him ripped away, cleansed, and Jar-Eel recoiled as his art of Lifedrain backfired. Artorias spun to his feet immediately, rolling towards the direction in which his sword had been thrown. The wolf knight snatched the blade where it hung seemingly immobile in the void, spinning to face the undead king, who growled.

"Figures that someone would have taught you that trick," Jar-Eel commented, "So I guess I'll do this the old-fashioned way!" The king raised his hand, glowing a sickly white as he held it aloft, before slamming it downwards. A storm of abyssal darkness exploded outwards, humanity sprites, dark beads, and pursuers all being simultaneously thrown towards the wolf knight. Artorias calmly stared into the onslaught, and felt a subtle warmth as his silver pendant activated on his neck, deflecting every last spell thrown at him and causing them to dissipate back into the void. Jar-Eel roared in fury as, once again, the tools of the abysswalker denied him his victory.

"None of your tricks will work, Jar-Eel. You'll have to face me blade-to-blade," Artorias told him calmly, raising his greatsword once more in a defensive stance.

"I hope you remember, wolf knight, that those who live by the sword... die by it!" Jar-Eel dashed forwards with superhuman speed, slashing at Artorias with his curved greatsword. Artorias blocked the first strike, a low right uppercut, and dragged Jar-Eel's sword up and around his body until Artorias' greatsword was underneath his own blade. Artorias immediately slashed back in the other direction, attempting to cut Jar-Eel in two, but the undead king caught the blade on his rippling shield of darkness. Artorias drew back to deflect a strike high and left, slamming his sword down on top of Jar-Eel's own blade to his right. As he pinned the sword, Artorias elected to kick the king in the chest rather than attack with his own blade, sending Jar-Eel sprawling backwards while holding his blade in place. The result was the immediate disarmament of the undead king. Artorias left the sword where it was, seemingly hanging in the air, as he stepped up to Jar-Eel's prone form.

"I find that quite true," Artorias stated, looking at the undead king, "And it seems that you've held your blade a time too many." Artorias raised his sword in a feint for a long overhead strike, and watched as Jar-Eel reflexively raised his hand to form a shield with the energy of Lifedrain. Artorias immediately adjusted his strike to become a downwards thrust, slamming into Jar-Eel's left hand and throwing a blinding white flash across the void as the shield of dark energies shattered. Artorias casually pinned Jar-Eel's left hand down with his foot, raising his blade once more.

"Please..." the undead king begged, "spare me..." Artorias shook his head.

"I'm sorry, my friend... but I cannot break the oath I swore." The wolf knight rammed his sword down. As he did, the black void vanished along with Jar-Eel, and Artorias found himself falling again, this time with a point of reference. The floor of a large, empty cavern rushed up to greet him. Artorias braced himself, landing in a dive roll to minimize impact. It worked, saving him from broken legs or worse. He heard steel clatter to the ground beside him - the sword of Jar-Eel. It was about the right size, he reckoned, to make a good gift for Sif. He rammed his own sword into the ground before picking Jar-Eel's up and placing it on his back. Then, as he was about to withdraw his own sword once again, he noticed something. The blade gleamed white, untainted and untarnished as it had once been. His defeat of Jar-Eel had lifted the curse placed on it by his failure in Oolacile. He smiled as he took up the familiar blade.

Then, he noticed something in the cavern which made his mirth at victory vanish. The primordial serpent, Darkstalker Kaathe, was waiting expectantly at the far side of the chamber. Artorias approached the serpent slowly.

"Greetings Undead Warrior... I am the Primordial Serpent Darkstalker Kaathe, -"

"I know who you are," Artorias growled as he raised his sword. His posture induced a nervous swallow in the primordial serpent. The pair stared each other down for a stretched moment. Then, without further warning, Artorias lunged.

Kaathe screamed in pain.

AN: And there you go. I dropped a few hints for what is to come across this chapter, but it's really placing the conclusion to Artorias' arc at the beginning of the arc. I was going to put it off for longer, but a few people (shout out to Mihairu7) showed me the logic of putting it in here. As a result, you get this chapter now, as well as a rather rapid update.


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